( 


COUNSELS  BY  THE  WAY 


COUNSELS 

BY    THE 

WAY 

BY 

HENRY  VAN  DYKE 


N  EW  Y  ORK 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  fcf  CO. 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,    1897,    1900,   1903  AND   1908 
BY  THOMAS  Y.   CROWELL   &  CO. 

SECOND  EDITION 


COMPOSITION   AND   ELECTROTYPE  PLATES  BY 
D.  B.  UPDIKE,  THE  MERRYMOUNT  PRESS,  BOSTON 


"PS 


§ 


DEDICATED  IN  FRIENDSHIP 

TO  JOHN  HUSTON  FINLEY 

PRESIDENT  OF  THE  COLLEGE  OF  THE 

CITY  OF  NEW  YORK 


Z 

I 


356132 


PUBLISHERS'  NOTE 

FROM  time  to  time  the  present  publishers  have 
brought  out  separate  essays  by  Dr.  Van  Dyke,  un 
der  such  distinctive  titles  as  "Ships  and  Havens" 
(1897),  "The  Poetry  of  the  Psalms"  (1900),  and 
"Joy  and  Power"  (1903).  These  little  books,  each 
done  in  special  type  and  printed  in  black  and  red, 
have  found  many  thousands  of  readers.  But  requests 
have  been  received  for  a  single  volume  containing 
all  this  material,  in  order  that  it  may  be  preserved 
in  permanent  library  form,  and  we  have  therefore 
issued  the  present  book.  The  little  gift  books  con 
taining  single  essays  may  still  be  had  as  formerly. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

I.  PILGRIMS  OF  THE  SEA  3 

II.  WHITHER  BOUND?  12 

III.  THE  HAVEN  OF  WORK  1 9 

IV.  THE  HAVEN  OF  CHARACTER  4! 

V.  THE  LAST  PORT  50 

THE  POETRY  OF  THE   PSALMS  59 

JOY  AND   POWER  93 

THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE  125 

THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY  145 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

I 
PILGRIMS  OF  THE  SEA 

OF  all  the  things  that  man  has  made, 
none  is  so  full  of  interest  and  charm, 
none  possesses  so  distinct  a  life  and  char 
acter  of  its  own,  as  a  ship. 

"Ships  are  but  boards,"  says  Shylock  in 
"The  Merchant  of  Venice."  But  we  feel 
that  this  is  a  thoroughly  wooden  opinion, 
one  of  those  literal  judgements  which  stick 
to  the  facts  and  miss  the  truth.  Ships  have 
something  more  in  them  than  the  timbers 
of  which  they  are  made.  Human  thought 
and  human  labour  and  human  love;  the  de 
signer's  clever  conception,  the  builder's  pa 
tient  toil,  the  explorer's  daring  venture,  the 
merchant's  costly  enterprise,  the  sailor's 
loyal  affection,  the  traveller's  hopes  and 
fears, — all  the  manifold  sympathies  of  hu 
manity, — inform  the  dumb  pilgrims  of  the 
sea  with  a  human  quality.  There  is  a  spirit 
within  their  oaken  ribs,  a  significance  in 
their  strange  histories. 
[  3  ] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

The  common  language  in  which  we  speak 
of  them  is  an  unconscious  confession  of  this 
feeling.  We  say  of  a  ship,  "She  sails  well. 
She  minds  her  helm  quickly.  The  wind  is 
against  her,  but  she  makes  good  headway. 
We  wish  her  a  prosperous  voyage."  We  en 
dow  her  with  personality ;  and,  as  if  to  ac 
knowledge  the  full  measure  of  our  interest, 
we  express  it  in  terms  which  belong  to  the 
more  interesting  sex. 

One  reason  for  this  is  undoubtedly  the 
fact  that  the  ship  appears  to  us  as  a  traveller 
to  an  unseen,  and  often  an  unknown,  haven. 
It  is  the  element  of  mystery,  of  adventure, 
of  movement  towards  a  secret  goal,  that 
fascinates  our  imagination,  and  draws  our 
sympathy  after  it.  When  this  is  wanting, 
the  ship  loses  something  of  her  enchant 
ment. 

There  is  a  little  cottage  where  I  have 
spent  many  summers  on  the  sleepy  south 
ern  shore  of  Long  Island.  From  the  white 
porch  we  could  look  out  upon  a  shallow, 
land-locked  bay.  There  we  saw,  on  every 
sunny  day,  a  score  of  sailboats,  flickering  to 
and  fro  on  the  bright  circle  of  water  in  swal- 
[4] 


PILGRIMS  OF  THE  SEA 

low-flights,  with  no  aim  but  their  own  mo 
tion  in  the  pleasant  breeze.  It  was  a  flock 
of  little  play-ships, — a  pretty  sight,  but  it 
brought  no  stir  to  the  thought,  no  thrill  to 
the  emotions. 

From  the  upper  windows  of  the  house 
the  outlook  surpassed  a  long  line  of  ragged 
sand-dunes,  and  ranged  across 

The  unplumbed,  salt,  estranging  sea. 

There  went  the  real  ships,  of  all  shapes 
and  sizes,  of  all  rigs  and  models ;  the  great 
steamers,  building  an  airy  pillar  of  cloud  by 
day,  a  flashing  pillar  of  fire  by  night;  the 
ragged  coasters,  with  their  patched  and 
dingy  sails;  the  slim,  swift  yachts,  hurry 
ing  by  in  gala  dress,  as  if  in  haste  to  arrive 
at  some  distant,  merry  festival  of  Neptune's 
court.  Sometimes  they  passed  in  groups, 
like  flights  of  plover;  sometimes  in  single 
file,  like  a  flock  of  wild  swans;  sometimes 
separate  and  lonely,  one  appearing  and  van 
ishing  before  the  next  hove  in  sight. 

When  the  wind  was  from  the  north  they 
hugged  the  shore.  With  a  glass  one  could 
see  the  wrinkled,  weather-beaten  face  of  the 
[5  ] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

man  at  the  wheel,  and  the  short  pipe  smok 
ing  between  his  lips.  When  the  wind  was 
southerly  and  strong  they  kept  far  away, 
creeping  slowly  along  the  rim  of  the  hori 
zon.  On  a  fair  breeze  they  dashed  along,  wing 
and  wing,  with  easy,  level  motion.  When 
the  wind  was  contrary  they  came  beating  in 
and  out,  close-hauled,  tossing  and  labouring 
over  the  waves.  It  was  a  vision  of  endless 
variety  and  delight.  But  behind  it  all,  giving 
life  and  interest  to  the  scene,  was  the  in 
visible  thought  of  the  desired  haven. 

Whither  is  she  travelling,  that  long,  four- 
masted  schooner,  with  all  her  sails  set  to 
catch  the  fickle  northwest  breeze?  Is  it  in 
some  languid  bay  of  the  West  Indies,  or  in 
some  rocky  harbour  of  Patagonia,  amid  the 
rigours  of  the  far  southern  winter,  that  she 
will  cast  anchor?  Where  is  she  bound,  that 
dark  little  tramp-steamer,  trailing  volumi 
nous  black  smoke  behind  her,  and  buffet 
ing  her  way  to  the  eastward  in  the  teeth  of 
the  rising  gale?  Is  it  in  some  sunlit  port 
among  the  bare  purple  hills  of  Spain,  or  in 
the  cool  shadows  of  some  forest-clad  Nor 
wegian  fiord,  that  she  will  find  her  moor- 


PILGRIMS  OF  THE  SEA 

ings  ?  Whither  away,  ye  ships  ?  What  haven  ? 
How  often,  and  how  exquisitely,  this 
question  of  ships  and  havens  has  been  ex 
pressed  by  the  poets  (in  prose  and  verse), 
who  translate  our  thoughts  for  us.  Long 
fellow  recalls  a  dream  of  his  childhood  in 
the  seaport  town  of  Portland : 

I  remember  the  black  wharves  and  the  slips, 
And  the  sea-tides  tossing  free; 
And  Spanish  sailors  with  bearded  lips, 
And  the  beauty  and  mystery  of  the  ships, 
And  the  magic  of  the  sea. 
And  the  voice  of  that  wayward  song 
Is  singing  and  saying  still: 
"A  boy's  will  is  the  wind's  will, 
And  the  thoughts  of  youth  are  long,  long 
thoughts." 

George  William  Curtis  wanders  down  to 
the  Battery,  and  meditates  on  "Sea  from 
Shore:"  "The  sails  were  shaken  out,  and 
the  ship  began  to  move.  It  was  a  fair  breeze 
perhaps,  and  no  steamer  was  needed  to  tow 
her  away.  She  receded  down  the  bay.  Friends 
turned  back, —  I  could  not  see  them, — and 
waved  their  hands,  and  wiped  their  eyes, 
and  went  home  to  dinner.  Farther  and  far- 
[  7] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

ther  from  the  ships  at  anchor,  the  lessen 
ing  vessel  became  single  and  solitary  upon 
the  water.  The  sun  sank  in  the  west;  but  I 
watched  her  still.  Every  flash  of  her  sails,  as 
she  tacked  and  turned,  thrilled  my  heart. . . . 
I  did  not  know  the  consignees  nor  the  name 
of  the  vessel.  I  had  shipped  no  adventure, 
nor  risked  any  insurance,  nor  made  any  bet, 
but  my  eyes  clung  to  her  as  Ariadne's  to 
the  fading  sail  of  Theseus." 

And  here  is  a  bit  of  Rudyard  Kipling's 
gusty  music  from  "The  Seven  Seas :" 

The  Liner  she's  a  lady,  an'  she  never  looks 

nor  'eeds — 
The  Man-o'- War's  'er  'usband,  an'  'e  gives 

'er  all  she  needs; 
But,  oh,  the  little  cargo-boats,  that  sail  the 

wet  seas  roun', 
They're  just  the  same  as  you  and  me,  a- 

plyin'  up  an'  down! 

But  it  is  Wordsworth,  the  most  intimate 
and  searching  interpreter  of  delicate,  half- 
formed  emotions,  who  has  given  the  best 
expression  to  the  feeling  that  rises  within 
us  at  sight  of  a  journeying  ship : 


PILGRIMS  OF  THE  SEA 
With  ships  the  sea  was  sprinkled  far  and  nigh 
Like  stars  in  heaven,  and  joyously  it  showed: 
Some  lying  fast  at  anchor  in  the  road, 
Some  veering  up  and  down,  one  knew  not 

why. 

A  goodly  Vessel  did  I  then  espy 
Come  like  a  giant  from  a  haven  broad; 
And  lustily  along  the  bay  she  strode, 
Her  tackling  rich,  and  of  apparel  high. 
This  Ship  was  naught  to  me,  nor  I  to  her, 
Yet  I  pursued  her  with  a  Lover's  look; 
This  Ship  to  all  the  rest  I  did  prefer: 
When  will  she  turn,  and  whither?  She  will 

brook 
No  tarrying:  where  she  comes  the  winds 

must  stir; 
On  went  she,  and  due  north  her  journey 

took. 

Where  lies  the  Land  to  which  yon  Ship 

must  go? 

Fresh  as  a  lark  mounting  at  break  of  day 
Festively  she  puts  forth  in  trim  array; 
Is  she  for  tropic  suns,  or  polar  snow? 
What  boots  the  inquiry? — Neither  friend 

nor  foe 

She  cares  for;  let  her  travel  where  she  may 
She  finds  familiar  friends,  a  beaten  way 

[9] 


SHIPS   AND  HAVENS 
Ever  before  her,  and  a  wind  to  blow. 
Yet  still  I  ask,  what  haven  is  her  mark? 
And,  almost  as  it  was  when  ships  were  rare 
(From  time  to  time,  like  Pilgrims,  here  and 

there 
Crossing  the  waters),  doubt,  and  something 

dark, 

Of  the  old  Sea  some  reverential  fear 
Is  with  me  at  thy  farewell,  joyous  Bark ! 

And  is  not  this  a  parable,  beautiful  and 
suggestive,  of  the  way  in  which  we  look 
out,  in  our  thoughtful  moods,  upon  the 
ocean  of  human  life,  and  the  men  and  wo 
men  who  are  voyaging  upon  it?  In  them 
also  the  deepest  element  of  interest  is  that 
they  are  in  motion.  They  are  all  going  some 
whither.  They  are  not  stationary  objects  in 
our  view.  They  are  not  even,  in  this  as 
pect,  parts  of  the  great  tide  of  being  in  which 
they  float.  They  are  distinct,  individual, 
separate.  We  single  them  out  one  by  one. 
Each  one  is  a  voyager,  with  a  port  to  seek, 
a  course  to  run,  a  fortune  to  experience.  The 
most  interesting  question  that  we  can  ask 
in  regard  to  them  is:  Whither  bound? 
What  haven? 


PILGRIMS  OF  THE  SEA 

But  this  inquiry  comes  to  us  now  not  as 
an  idle  or  a  curious  question.  For,  first  of 
all,  we  feel  that  these  men  and  women  are 
not  strangers  to  us.  We  know  why  we  take 
a  personal  interest  in  one  more  than  in  an 
other.  We  know  why  we  "pursue  them 
with  a  lover's  look."  It  is  as  if  the  "joy 
ous  Bark"  carried  some  one  that  we  knew, 
as  if  we  could  see  a  familiar  face  above  the 
bulwarks,  and  hear  a  well-beloved  voice 
hailing  us  across  the  waves.  And  then  we 
realize  that  we  also  are  en  voyage.  We  do 
not  stand  on  the  shore  as  spectators;  we, 
too,  are  out  on  the  ocean,  sailing.  All  the 
"reverential  fear  of  the  old  Sea,"  the  peril, 
the  mystery,  the  charm,  of  the  voyage, 
come  home  to  our  own  experience.  The 
question  becomes  pressing,  urgent,  impor 
tunate,  as  we  enter  into  the  depth  of  its 
meaning.  Surely  there  is  nothing  that  we 
can  ever  ask  ourselves  in  which  we  have  a 
closer,  deeper  interest,  or  to  which  we  need 
to  find  a  clearer,  truer  answer,  than  this 
simple,  direct  question :  What  is  our  desired 
haven  in  the  venturesome  voyage  of  life? 


II 

WHITHER  BOUND? 

I  WANT  to  talk  with  you  about  this 
question  in  this  little  book,  as  a  writer 
may  talk  with  a  reader  across  the  unknown 
intervals  of  time  and  space.  The  book  that 
does  not  really  speak  to  you  is  not  worth 
much.  And  unless  you  really  hear  some 
thing,  and  make  some  kind  of  an  answer 
to  it,  you  do  not  truly  read. 

There  is  a  disadvantage,  of  course,  in  the 
fact  that  you  and  I  do  not  know  each  other 
and  speak  face  to  face.  Who  you  are  into 
whose  hands  this  book  has  come,  I  cannot 
tell.  And  to  you,  I  am  nothing  but  a  name. 
Where  you  may  be  while  you  turn  these 
pages,  I  cannot  guess.  Perhaps  you  are  sit 
ting  in  your  own  quiet  room  after  a  hard 
day's  work ;  perhaps  you  are  reading  aloud 
in  some  circle  of  friends  around  the  open 
fire;  perhaps  you  are  in  the  quiet  woods, 
or  out  in  the  pleasant  orchard  under  your 
favourite  tree;  perhaps  you  are  actually  on 
the  deck  of  a  ship  travelling  across  the 


WHITHER  BOUND? 

waters.  It  is  strange  and  wonderful  to  think 
of  the  many  different  places  into  which  the 
words  that  I  am  now  writing  in  this  lonely, 
book-lined  study  may  come,  and  of  the 
many  different  eyes  that  may  read  them. 

But  wherever  you  are,  and  whoever  you 
may  be,  there  is  one  thing  in  which  you 
and  I  are  just  alike  at  this  moment,  and  in 
all  the  moments  of  our  existence.  We  are 
not  at  rest;  we  are  on  a  journey.  Our  life 
is  not  a  mere  fact;  it  is  a  movement,  a  ten 
dency,  a  steady,  ceaseless  progress  towards 
an  unseen  goal.  We  are  gaining  something, 
or  losing  something,  every  day.  Even  when 
our  position  and  our  character  seem  to  re 
main  precisely  the  same,  they  are  changing. 
For  the  mere  advance  of  time  is  a  change. 
It  is  not  the  same  thing  to  have  a  bare  field 
in  January  and  in  July.  The  season  makes 
the  difference.  The  limitations  thatare  child 
like  in  the  child  are  childish  in  the  man. 

Everything  that  we  do  is  a  step  in  one 
direction  or  another.  Even  the  failure  to  do 
something  is  in  itself  a  deed.  It  sets  us  for 
ward  or  backward.  The  action  of  the  ne 
gative  pole  of  a  magnetic  needle  is  just  as 
[  '3  ] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

real  as  the  action  of  the  positive  pole.  To 
decline  is  to  accept — the  other  alternative. 

Are  you  richer  to-day  than  you  were  yes 
terday?  No?  Then  you  are  a  little  poorer. 
Are  you  better  to-day  than  you  were  yes 
terday?  No?  Then  you  are  a  little  worse. 
Are  you  nearer  to  your  port  to-day  than 
you  were  yesterday?  Yes, — you  must  be  a 
little  nearer  to  some  port  or  other;  for  since 
your  ship  was  first  launched  upon  the  sea 
of  life,  you  have  never  been  still  for  a  single 
moment;  the  sea  is  too  deep,  you  could  not 
find  an  anchorage  if  you  would;  there  can 
be  no  pause  until  you  come  into  port. 

But  what  is  it,  then,  the  haven  towards 
which  you  are  making?  What  is  the  goal 
that  you  desire  and  hope  to  reach?  What 
is  the  end  of  life  towards  which  you  are 
drifting  or  steering? 

There  are  three  ways  in  which  we  may 
look  at  this  question,  depending  upon  the 
point  of  view  from  which  we  regard  human 
existence. 

When  we  think  of  it  as  a  work,  the  ques 
tion  is,"  What  do  we  desire  to  accomplish?" 

When  we  think  of  it  as  a  growth,  a  devel- 
[  '4] 


WHITHER  BOUND? 

opment,  a  personal  unfolding,  the  question 
is,  "What  do  we  desire  to  become?" 

When  we  think  of  it  as  an  experience,  a 
destiny,  the  question  is,  "What  do  we  de 
sire  to  become  of  us?" 

Do  not  imagine  for  an  instant  that  these 
questions  can  be  really  separated.  They  are 
interwoven.  They  cross  each  other  from 
end  to  end  of  the  web  of  life.  The  answer 
to  one  question  determines  the  answer  to 
the  others.  We  cannot  divide  our  work 
from  ourselves,  nor  isolate  our  future  from 
our  qualities.  A  ship  might  as  well  try  to 
sail  north  with  her  jib,  and  east  with  her 
foresail,  and  south  with  her  mainsail,  as  a 
man  to  go  one  way  in  conduct,  and  another 
way  in  character,  and  another  way  in  de 
stiny. 

What  we  do  belongs  to  what  we  are;  and 
what  we  are  is  what  becomes  of  us. 

And  yet,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  there  is  a 
difference  in  these  three  standpoints  from 
which  we  may  look  at  our  life;  and  this  dif 
ference  not  only  makes  a  little  variation  in 
the  view  that  we  take  of  our  existence,  but 
also  influences  unconsciously  our  manner 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

of  thinking  and  speaking  about  it.  Most  of 
the  misunderstandings  that  arise  when  we 
are  talking  about  life  come  from  a  failure 
to  remember  this.  We  are  looking  at  the 
same  thing,  but  we  are  looking  from  oppo 
site  corners  of  the  room.  We  are  discussing 
the  same  subject,  but  in  different  dialects. 

Some  people — perhaps  the  majority — 
are  of  a  practical  turn  of  mind.  Life  seems 
to  them  principally  an  affair  of  definite 
labour  directed  to  certain  positive  results. 
They  are  usually  thinking  about  what  they 
are  to  do  in  the  world,  and  what  they  are 
to  get  for  it.  It  is  a  question  of  occupation, 
of  accomplishment,  of  work  and  wages. 

Other  people — and  I  think  almost  all 
serious-minded  people  when  they  areyoung, 
and  life  still  appears  fresh  and  wonderful 
to  them — regard  their  existence  from  the 
standpoint  of  sentiment,  of  feeling,  of  per 
sonality.  They  have  their  favourite  charac 
ters  in  history  or  fiction,  whom  they  admire 
and  try  to  imitate.  They  have  their  ideals, 
which  they  seek  and  hope  to  realize.  Some 
vision  of  triumph  over  obstacles,  and  vic 
tory  over  enemies,  some  model  of  manhood 


WHITHER  BOUND? 

or  womanhood,  shines  before  them.  By  that 
standard  they  test  and  measure  themselves. 
Towards  that  end  they  direct  their  efforts. 
The  question  of  life,  for  them,  is  a  ques 
tion  of  attainment,  of  self-discipline,  of  self- 
development. 

Other  people — and  I  suppose  we  may 
say  all  people  at  some  time  or  other  in  their 
experience — catch  a  glimpse  of  life  in  still 
wider  and  more  mysterious  relations.  They 
see  that  it  is  not  really,  for  any  one  of  us, 
an  independent  and  self-centred  and  self- 
controlled  affair.  They  feel  that  its  issues 
run  out  far  beyond  what  we  can  see  in  this 
world.  They  have  a  deep  sense  of  a  future 
state  of  being  towards  which  we  are  all 
inevitably  moving.  This  movement  cannot 
be  a  matter  of  chance.  It  must  be  under 
law,  under  responsibility,  under  guidance. 
It  cannot  be  a  matter  of  indifference  to  us. 
It  ought  to  be  the  object  of  our  most  earnest 
concern,  our  most  careful  choice,  our  most 
determined  endeavour.  Ifthere  is  a  port  be 
yond  the  horizon,  we  should  know  where 
it  lies  and  how  to  win  it.  And  so  the  ques 
tion  of  life,  in  these  profound  moods  which 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

come  to  all  of  us,  presents  itself  as  a  ques 
tion  of  eternal  destiny. 

Now,  if  we  are  to  understand  each  other, 
if  we  are  to  get  a  view  of  the  subject  which 
shall  be  anything  like  a  well-rounded  view, 
a  complete  view,  we  must  look  at  the  ques 
tion  from  all  three  sides.  We  must  ask  our 
selves  :  What  is  our  desired  haven,  first,  in 
achievement;  and  second,  in  character;  and 
last,  in  destiny? 


Ill 

THE  HAVEN  OF  WORK 

OURELY  we  ought  to  know  what  it  is 
O  that  we  really  want  to  do  in  the  world, 
what  practical  result  we  desire  to  accom 
plish  with  our  lives.  And  this  is  a  question 
which  it  will  be  very  wise  to  ask  and  an 
swer  before  we  determine  what  particular 
means  we  shall  use  in  order  to  perform  our 
chosen  work  and  to  secure  the  desired  re 
sult.  A  man  ought  to  know  what  he  pro 
poses  to  make  before  he  selects  and  prepares 
his  tools.  A  captain  should  have  a  clear  idea 
of  what  port  he  is  to  reach  before  he  at 
tempts  to  lay  his  course  and  determine  his 
manner  of  sailing. 

All  these  minor  questions  of  ways  and 
means  must  come  afterwards.  They  cannot 
be  settled  at  the  outset.  They  depend  on 
circumstances.  They  change  with  the  sea 
sons.  There  are  many  paths  to  the  same 
end.  One  may  be  best  to-day ;  another  may 
be  best  to-morrow.  The  wind  and  the  tide 
make  a  difference.  One  way  may  be  best 
[  '9] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

for  you,  another  way  for  me.  The  build  of 
the  ship  must  be  taken  into  consideration. 
A  flat-bottomed  craft  does  best  in  the  shal 
low  water,  along  shore.  A  deep  keel  is  for 
the  open  sea. 

But  before  we  make  up  our  minds  how 
to  steer  from  day  to  day,  we  must  know 
where  we  are  going  in  the  long  run.  Then 
we  can  shape  our  course  to  fit  our  purpose. 
We  can  learn  how  to  meet  emergencies  as 
they  arise.  We  can  change  our  direction  to 
avoid  obstacles  and  dangers.  We  can  take 
a  roundabout  way  if  need  be.  If  we  keep 
the  thought  of  our  desired  haven  clearly  be 
fore  us,  all  the  other  points  can  be  more 
easily  and  wisely  settled;  and  however  de 
vious  and  difficult  the  voyage  may  be,  it 
will  be  a  success  when  we  get  there. 

I  am  quite  sure  that  a  great  deal  of  the 
confusion  and  perplexity  of  youth,  and  a 
great  deal  of  the  restlessness  and  fickleness 
which  older  people  often  criticise  so  severely 
and  so  unjustly,  come  from  the  attempt  to 
choose  an  occupation  in  life  before  the 
greater  question  of  the  real  object  of  our 
life-work  has  been  fairly  faced  and  settled. 

[20] 


THE  HAVEN  OF  WORK 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  when  you  grow 
up  ? "  This  is  the  favourite  conundrum  which 
the  kind  aunts  and  uncles  put  to  the  boys 
when  they  come  home  from  school ;  and  of 
late  they  are  beginning  to  put  it  to  the  girls 
also,  since  it  has  been  reluctantly  admitted 
that  a  girl  may  rightly  have  something  to 
say  about  what  she  would  like  to  do  in  the 
world.  But  how  is  it  possible  to  make  any 
thing  more  than  a  blind  guess  at  the  an 
swer,  unless  the  boy  or  the  girl  has  some 
idea  of  the  practical  end  which  is  to  be 
worked  for.  To  choose  a  trade,  a  business, 
a  profession,  without  knowing  what  kind  of 
a  result  you  want  to  get  out  of  your  labour, 
is  to  set  sail  in  the  dark.  It  is  to  have  a 
course,  but  no  haven ;  an  employment,  but 
no  vocation. 

There  are  really  only  four  great  practical 
ends  for  which  men  and  women  can  work 
in  this  world, —  Pleasure,  Wealth,  Fame, 
and  Usefulness.  We  owe  it  to  ourselves  to 
consider  them  carefully,  and  to  make  up 
our  minds  which  of  them  is  to  be  our  chief 
object  in  life. 

Pleasure  is  one  aim  in  life,  and  there  are 

[2.] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

a  great  many  people  who  are  following  it, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  as  the  main 
end  of  all  their  efforts.  Now,  pleasure  is  a 
word  which  has  a  double  meaning.  It  may 
mean  the  satisfaction  of  all  the  normal  de 
sires  of  our  manhood  in  their  due  propor 
tion,  and  in  this  sense  it  is  a  high  and  noble 
end.  There  is  a  pleasure  in  the  intelligent 
exercise  of  all  our  faculties,  in  the  friend 
ship  of  nature,  in  the  perception  of  truth, 
in  the  generosity  of  love,  in  the  achieve 
ments  of  heroism,  in  the  deeds  of  benefi 
cence,  in  the  triumphs  of  self-sacrifice.  "It 
is  not  to  taste  sweet  things,"  says  Carlyle, 
"  but  to  do  true  and  noble  things,  and  vin 
dicate  himself  under  God's  Heaven  as  a 
God-made  man,  that  the  poorest  son  of 
Adam  dimly  longs.  Show  him  the  way  of 
doing  that,  the  dullest  day-drudge  kindles 
into  a  hero." 

But  pleasure  as  we  commonly  speak  of 
it  means  something  very  different  from  this. 
It  denotes  the  immediate  gratification  of 
our  physical  senses  and  appetites  and  in 
clinations.  There  is  a  free  gift  of  pleasant 
sensation  attached  by  the  Creator  to  the  ful- 

[22] 


THE  HAVEN  OF  WORK 

filment  of  our  natural  propensions.  The 
taking  of  food,  for  example,  not  only  nour 
ishes  the  body,  but  also  gratifies  the  palate; 
the  quenching  of  thirst  is  agreeable  to  the 
senses  as  well  as  necessary  to  the  mainte 
nance  of  life.  No  sane  and  wholesome  thinker 
has  ventured  to  deny  that  it  is  lawful  and 
wise  to  receive  this  gratuitous  gift  of  plea 
sure,  and  rejoice  in  it,  as  it  comes  to  us  in 
this  world  wherein  God  has  caused  to  grow 
"every  tree  that  is  pleasant  to  the  sight  and 
good  for  food."  But  when  we  make  the  re 
ception  of  the  agreeable  sensation  the  chief 
end  and  motive  of  our  action,  when  we  di 
rect  our  will  and  our  effort  to  the  attainment 
of  this  end,  then  we  enter  upon  a  pleasure- 
seeking  life.  We  make  that  which  should 
be  our  servant  to  refresh  and  cheer  us,  our 
master  to  direct  and  rule  and  drive  us. 

The  evil  nature  of  this  transformation  is 
suggested  in  the  very  names  which  we  give 
to  human  conduct  in  which  the  gratification 
of  the  senses  has  become  the  controlling 
purpose.  The  man  who  lives  for  the  sake 
of  the  enjoyment  that  he  gets  out  of  eating 
and  drinking  is  a  glutton  or  a  drunkard. 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

The  man  who  measures  the  success  and 
happiness  of  his  life  by  its  physical  sensa 
tions,  whether  they  be  coarse  and  brutal  or 
delicate  and  refined,  is  a  voluptuary. 

A  pleasure-seeking  life,  in  this  sense, 
when  we  think  of  it  clearly  and  carefully,  is 
one  which  has  no  real  end  or  goal  outside 
of  itself.  Its  aim  is  unreal  and  transitory, 
a  passing  thrill  in  nerves  that  decay,  an 
experience  that  leads  nowhere,  and  leaves 
nothing  behind  it.  Robert  Burns  knew  the 
truth  of  what  he  wrote: 

But  pleasures  are  like  poppies  spread, 
You  seize  the  flower,  the  bloom  is  shed! 

The  man  who  chooses  pleasure  as  the  ob 
ject  of  his  life  has  no  real  haven,  but  is  like 
a  boat  that  beats  up  and  down  and  drifts  to 
and  fro,  merely  to  feel  the  motion  of  the 
waves  and  the  impulse  of  the  wind.  When 
the  voyage  of  life  is  done  he  has  reached 
no  port,  he  has  accomplished  nothing. 

One  of  the  wisest  of  the  ancients,  the 
Stoic  philosopher  Seneca,  wrote  a  letter  to 
his  brother  Gallic  (the  Roman  governor  be 
fore  whom  St.  Paul  was  tried  in  Corinth), 


THE  HAVEN  OF  WORK 

in  which  he  speaks  very  frankly  about  the 
folly  of  a  voluptuous  life.  "Those  who  have 
permitted  pleasure  to  lead  the  van  .  .  .  lose 
virtue  altogether;  and  yet  they  do  not  pos 
sess  pleasure,  but  are  possessed  by  ity  and  are 
either  tortured  by  its  absence,  or  choked 
by  its  excess,  being  wretched  if  deserted  by 
it,  and  yet  more  wretched  if  overwhelmed 
by  it ;  like  those  who  are  caught  in  the  shoals 
of  the  Syrtes,  and  at  one  time  are  stranded 
on  dry  ground,  and  at  another  tossed  on 
the  furious  billows.  . .  .  As  we  hunt  wild 
beasts  with  toil  and  peril,  and  even  when 
they  are  caught  find  them  an  anxious  pos 
session,  for  they  often  tear  their  keepers  to 
pieces,  even  so  are  great  pleasures:  they 
turn  out  to  be  great  evils,  and  take  their 
owners  prisoner." 

This  is  the  voice  of  human  prudence  and 
philosophy.  The  voice  of  religion  is  even 
more  clear  and  piercing.  St.  Paul  says  of 
the  pleasure-seekers:  "Whose  end  is  de 
struction,  whose  god  is  their  belly,  whose 
glory  is  their  shame,  who  mind  earthly 
things. "And  in  another  place,  lest  we  should 
forget  that  this  is  as  true  of  women  as  it  is 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

of  men,  he  says:  "She  that  liveth  in  plea 
sure  is  dead  while  she  liveth."  That  saying 
is  profoundly  true.  It  goes  to  the  bottom  of 
the  subject.  A  pleasure-seeking  life  is  a  liv 
ing  death,  because  its  object  perishes  even 
while  it  is  attained,  and  at  the  end  nothing 
is  left  of  it  but  dust  and  corruption. 

Think  of  the  result  of  existence  in  the 
man  or  woman  who  has  lived  chiefly  to 
gratify  the  physical  appetites;  think  of  its 
real  emptiness,  its  real  repulsiveness,  when 
old  age  comes,  and  the  senses  are  dulled, 
and  the  roses  have  faded,  and  the  lamps  at 
the  banquet  are  smoking  and  expiring,  and 
desire  fails,  and  all  that  remains  is  the  fierce, 
insatiable,  ugly  craving  for  delights  which 
have  fled  for  evermore;  think  of  the  bitter, 
burning  vacancy  of  such  an  end, —  and  you 
must  see  that  pleasure  is  not  a  good  haven 
to  seek  in  the  voyage  of  life. 

But  what  of  wealth  as  a  desired  haven? 
When  we  attempt  to  consider  this  subject 
we  have  especial  need  to  follow  Dr.  Sam 
uel  Johnson's  blunt  advice  and  "clear  our 
minds  of  cant."  There  is  a  great  deal  of  fool 
ish  railing  against  wealth,  which  takes  for 


THE  HAVEN  OF  WORK 

granted,  now  that  it  is  an  unsubstantial  and 
illusory  good,  and  now  that  it  is  not  a  good 
at  all,  but  only  an  unmixed  evil,  and  the 
root  of  all  other  evils.  Many  preachers  and 
moralists  talk  about  wealth  in  this  way,  but 
they  do  not  really  think  about  it  in  this 
way.  They  know  better.  And  when  young 
people  discover  and  observe  the  curious 
inconsistency  between  the  teacher's  words 
and  his  thoughts,  as  illuminated  by  his  con- 
duel:,  they  are  likely  to  experience  a  sense 
of  disappointment,  and  a  serious  revulsion 
from  doctrine  which  does  not  seem  to  be 
sincere. 

Wealth  is  simply  the  visible  result  of 
human  labour,  or  of  the  utilization  of  na 
tural  forces  and  products,  in  such  a  form 
that  it  can  be  exchanged.  A  gallon  of  water 
in  a  mountain  lake  is  not  wealth.  But  the 
same  gallon  of  water  conveyed  through  an 
aqueduct  and  delivered  in  the  heart  of  a 
great  city  represents  a  certain  amount  of 
wealth,  because  it  has  a  value  in  relation  to 
the  wants  of  men.  A  tree  growing  in  an  in 
accessible  forest  is  not  wealth.  But  a  stick 
of  timber  which  can  be  delivered  in  a  place 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

where  men  are  building  houses  is  a  bit  of 
wealth. 

Now,  the  symbol  and  measure  of  wealth 
is  money.  It  is  the  common  standard  by 
which  the  value  of  different  commodities  is 
estimated,  and  the  means  by  which  they 
are  exchanged.  It  is  not  a  dream  nor  a  de 
lusion.  It  is  something  real  and  solid.  It  is 
deserving  of  our  respecT:  under  certain  con 
ditions  and  within  certain  limitations.  The 
man  who  professes  an  absolute  contempt  for 
money  is  either  a  little  of  a  fool  or  a  good 
deal  of  a  fraud.  It  represents  a  product  of  la 
bour  and  a  form  of  power.  It  is  worth  work 
ing  for.  When  a  man  has  won  it,  there  it 
is — a  fa6t  and  a  force.  He  can  handle  it,  use 
it,  dispose  of  it,  as  he  chooses. 

But  stop  a  moment;  let  us  think!  Is  that 
altogether  true?  It  is  partly  true,  no  doubt; 
for  every  particle  of  wealth,  or  of  its  sym 
bol,  money,  is  an  actual  possession  of  which 
itsowner  can  dispose.  But  it  is  not  the  whole 
truth;  for  the  fa6l  is  that  he  must  dispose 
of  it,  because  that  is  the  only  way  in  which 
it  becomes  available  as  wealth.  A  piece  of 
money  in  an  old  stocking  is  no  more  than 


THE  HAVEN  OF  WORK 

a  leaf  upon  a  tree.  It  is  only  when  the  coin 
is  taken  out  and  used  that  it  becomes  of 
value.  And  the  nature  of  the  value  depends 
upon  the  quality  of  the  use. 

Moreover,  it  is  not  true  that  a  man  can 
dispose  of  his  money  as  he  chooses.  The  pur 
poses  for  which  it  can  be  used  are  strictly 
bounded.  There  are  many  things  that  he 
cannot  buy  with  it;  for  example,  health,  long 
life,  wisdom,  a  cheerful  spirit,  a  clear  con 
science,  peace  of  mind,  a  contented  heart. 

You  never  see  the  stock  called  Happi 
ness  quoted  on  the  exchange.  How  high 
would  it  range,  think  you, —  a  hundred 
shares  of  Happiness  Preferred,  guaranteed 
seven  per  cent,  seller  thirty? 

And  there  are  some  things  that  a  man 
cannot  do  with  his  wealth.  For  instance,  he 
cannot  carry  it  with  him  when  he  dies.  No 
system  of  transfer  has  been  established  be 
tween  the  two  worlds;  and  a  large  balance 
here  does  not  mean  a  balance  on  the  other 
side  of  the  grave.  The  property  of  Dives 
did  not  fall  in  value  when  he  died,  and  yet 
he  became  a  pauper  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye. 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

There  is  no  question  but  that  those  who 
live  to  win  wealth  in  this  world  have  a  more 
real  and  substantial  end  in  view  than  the 
mere  pleasure-seekers.  But  the  thing  that 
we  ought  to  understand  and  remember  is 
precisely  what  that  end  is.  It  is  the  acqui 
sition  in  our  hands  of  a  certain  thing  whose 
possession  is  very  brief,  and  whose  value 
depends  entirely  upon  the  use  to  which  it 
is  put.  Now,  if  we  make  the  mere  gaining 
of  that  thing  the  desired  haven  of  our  life, 
we  certainly  spend  our  strength  for  naught, 
and  our  labour  for  that  which  satisfieth  not. 
We  narrow  and  contract  our  whole  exist 
ence.  We  degrade  it  by  making  it  terminate 
upon  something  which  is  only  a  sign,  a  sym 
bol,  behind  which  we  see  no  worthy  and  en 
during  reality.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  the 
"blind  vice"  of  avarice,  as  Juvenal  calls  it, 
has  been  particularly  despised  by  the  wise 
of  all  lands  and  ages.  There  is  no  other 
fault  that  so  quickly  makes  the  heart  small 
and  hard. 

They  soon  grow  old  who  grope  for  gold 
In  marts  where  all  is  bought  and  sold ; 
Who  live  for  self,  and  on  some  shelf 
[30] 


THE  HAVEN  OF  WORK 
In  darkened  vaults  hoard  up  their  pelf; 
Cankered  and  crusted  o'er  with  mould, 
For  them  their  youth  itself  is  old. 

Nor  is  there  any  other  service  that  appears 
more  unprofitable  and  ridiculous  in  the  end, 
when  the  reward  for  which  the  money-maker 
has  given  his  life  is  stripped  away  from  him 
with  a  single  touch,  and  he  is  left  with  his 
trouble  for  his  pains. 

If  thou  art  rich,  thou'rt  poor; 
For  like  an  ass  whose  back  with  ingots  bows, 
Thou  bear'st  thy  heavy  burden  but  a  journey, 
And  death  unloads  thee. 

But  perhaps  you  imagine  that  no  one  is  in 
danger  of  making  that  mistake,  no  one  is 
so  foolish  as  to  seek  wealth  merely  for  its 
own  sake.  Do  you  think  so?  Then,  what 
shall  we  say  of  that  large  class  of  men,  so 
prominent  and  so  influential  in  modern  so 
ciety,  whose  energies  are  desperately  con 
secrated  to  the  winning  of  great  fortunes? 
So  far  as  their  life  speaks  for  them,  they 
have  no  real  ambition  beyond  that.  They 
are  not  the  leaders  in  noble  causes,  the  sus- 
tainers  of  beneficent  enterprises.  They  have 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

no  refined  and  elevated  tastes  to  gratify. 
They  are  not  the  promoters  of  art  or  sci 
ence,  the  adorners  of  their  city  with  splen 
did  buildings,  the  supporters  of  humane 
and  beautiful  charities.  They  have  no  large 
plans, no  high  and  generous  purposes.  They 
have  no  public  spirit,  only  an  intense  pri 
vate  greed.  All  that  we  can  say  of  them  is 
that  they  are  rich,  and  that  they  evidently 
want  to  be  richer. 

They  sit  like  gigantic  fowls  brooding  up 
on  nests  of  golden  eggs,  which  never  hatch. 
Their  one  desire  is  not  to  bring  any  thing  out 
of  the  eggs,  but  to  get  more  eggs  into  their 
nest.  It  is  a  form  of  lunacy, —  auromania. 

But  let  us  not  suppose  that  these  noto 
rious  examples  are  the  only  ones  who  are 
touched  with  this  insanity.  It  is  just  the 
same  in  the  man  who  is  embittered  by  fail 
ure,  as  in  the  man  who  is  elated  by  success; 
just  the  same  in  those  who  make  it  the  chief 
end  of  life  to  raise  their  hundreds  of  dol 
lars  to  thousands,  as  in  those  who  express 
their  ambition  in  terms  of  seven  figures. 
Covetousness  is  idolatry  of  wealth.  It  may 
be  paid  to  a  little  idol  as  well  as  to  a  big 


THE  HAVEN  OF  WORK 

one.  Avarice  may  be  married  to  Poverty,  and 
then  its  offspring  is  named  Envy;  or  it  may 
be  married  to  Riches,  and  then  its  children 
are  called  Purse-pride  and  Meanness.  Some 
people  sell  their  lives  for  heaps  of  treasure, 
and  some  for  a  scant  thirty  pieces  of  silver, 
and  some  for  nothing  better  than  a  promis 
sory  note  of  fortune,  without  endorsement. 

There  are  multitudes  of  people  in  the 
world  to-day  who  are  steering  and  sailing 
for  Ophir,  simply  because  it  is  the  land  of 
gold.  What  will  they  do  if  they  reach  their 
desired  haven?  They  do  not  know.  They 
do  not  even  ask  the  question.  They  will  be 
rich.  They  will  sit  down  on  their  gold. 

Let  us  look  our  desires  squarely  in  the 
face!  To  win  riches,  to  have  a  certain  bal 
ance  in  the  bank  and  a  certain  rating  on 
the  exchange,  is  a  real  objecT:,  a  definite  ob 
ject;  but  it  is  a  frightfully  small  objecl  for 
the  devotion  of  a  human  life,  and  a  bitterly 
disappointing  reward  for  the  loss  of  an  im 
mortal  soul.  If  wealth  is  our  desired  haven, 
we  may  be  sure  that  it  will  not  satisfy  us 
when  we  reach  it. 

Well,  then,  what  shall  we  say  of  fame  as 
[33] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

the  chief  end  of  life?  Here,  again,  we  must 
be  careful  to  discriminate  between  the  thing 
itself  and  other  things  which  are  often  con 
fused  with  it.  Fame  is  simply  what  our 
fellow-men  think  and  say  of  us.  It  may  be 
world-wide;  it  may  only  reach  to  a  single 
country  or  city;  it  may  be  confined  to  a  nar 
row  circle  of  society.  Translated  in  one  way, 
fame  is  glory ;  translated  in  another  way,  it 
is  merely  notoriety.  It  is  a  thing  which  ex 
ists,  of  course;  for  the  thoughts  of  other 
people  about  us  are  just  as  actual  as  our 
thoughts  about  ourselves,  or  as  the  charac 
ter  and  conduct  with  which  those  thoughts 
are  concerned.  But  the  three  things  do  not 
always  correspond. 

You  remember  what  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes  says,  in  "The  Autocrat  of  the 
Breakfast-Table,"  about  the  three  Johns : 

1.  The  real  John;  known  only  to  his 
Maker. 

2.  John's  ideal  John ;  never  the  real  one, 
and  often  very  unlike  him. 

3.  Thomas's  ideal  John;  never  the  real 
John,  nor  John's  John,  but  often  very  un 
like  either. 

[34] 


THE  HAVEN  OF  WORK 

Now,  the  particular  object  of  the  life  that 
makes  fame  its  goal  is  this  last  John.  Its 
success  consists  in  the  report  of  other 
people's  thoughts  and  remarks  about  us. 
Bare,  naked  fame,  however  great  it  may  be, 
can  never  bring  us  anything  more  than  an 
instantaneous  photograph  of  the  way  we 
look  to  other  men. 

Consider  what  it  is  worth.  It  may  be 
good  or  bad,  flattering  or  painfully  truthful. 
People  are  celebrated  sometimes  for  their 
vices,  sometimes  for  their  follies.  Anything 
out  of  the  ordinary  line  will  attract  notice. 
Notoriety  may  be  purchased  by  a  colossal 
extravagance  or  a  monumental  absurdity. 
A  person  has  been  made  notorious  simply 
by  showing  himself  "more  kinds  of  a  fool" 
than  any  one  else  in  the  community. 

Many  men  would  be  famous  for  their 
vanity  alone,  if  it  were  not  so  common  that 
it  no  longer  serves  as  a  mark  of  distinction. 
We  often  fancy  that  we  are  occupying  a 
large  place  in  the  attention  of  the  world, 
when  really  we  do  not  even  fill  a  pin-hole. 

To  be  governed  in  our  course  of  life  by 
a  timorous  consideration  of  what  the  world 
[35] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

will  think  of  us  is  to  be  even  lighter  and 
more  fickle  than  a  weathercock.  It  is  to  be 
blown  about  by  winds  so  small  and  slight 
that  they  could  not  even  lift  a  straw  outside 
of  our  own  versatile  imagination.  For  what 
is  "the  world,"  for  whose  admiration,  or 
envy,  or  mere  notice,  we  are  willing  to  give 
so  much?  "Mount  up,"  says  a  wise  man, 
"in  a  monomania  of  vanity,  the  number  of 
those  who  bestow  some  passing  thought 
upon  you,  as  high  as  you  dare;  and  what  is 
this  'world'  but  a  very  few  miserable  items 
of  human  existence,  which,  when  they  dis 
appear,  none  will  miss,  any  more  than  they 
will  miss  thyself?" 

There  is  one  point  in  which  fame  differs 
very  essentially  from  wealth  and  pleasure. 
If  it  comes  to  us  without  being  well  earned 
it  cannot  possibly  be  enjoyed.  A  pleasure 
may  arrive  by  chance,  and  still  it  will  be 
pleasant.  A  sum  of  money  may  be  won  by 
a  gambler,  and  still  it  is  real  money ;  he  can 
spend  it  as  he  pleases.  But  fame  without  a 
corresponding  merit  is  simply  an  unmiti 
gated  burden.  I  cannot  imagine  a  more  mis 
erable  position  than  that  of  the  poor  scrib- 

[36] 


THE  HAVEN  OF  WORK 
bier  who  allowed  his  acquaintances  to  con 
gratulate  him  as  the  writer  of  George  Eliot's 
early  stories.  To  have  the  name  of  great 
wisdom,  and  at  the  same  time  to  be  a  very 
foolish  person,  is  to  walk  through  the  world 
in  a  suit  of  armour  so  much  too  big  and 
too  heavy  for  you  that  it  makes  every  step 
a  painful  effort.  To  have  a  fine  reputation 
and  a  mean  character  is  to  live  a  lie  and  die 
a  sham.  And  this  is  the  danger  to  which 
every  one  who  seeks  directly  and  primarily 
for  fame  is  exposed. 

One  thing  is  certain  in  regard  to  fame: 
for  most  of  us  it  will  be  very  brief  in  itself; 
for  all  of  us  it  will  be  transient  in  our  en 
joyment  of  it. 

When  death  has  dropped  the  curtain  we 
shall  hear  no  more  applause.  And  though 
we  fondly  dream  that  it  will  continue  after 
we  have  left  the  stage,  we  do  not  realize  how 
quickly  it  will  die  away  in  silence,  while  the 
audience  turns  to  look  at  the  new  after  and 
the  next  scene.  Our  position  in  society  will 
be  filled  as  soon  as  it  is  vacated,  and  our 
name  remembered  only  for  a  moment, — ex 
cept,  please  God,  by  a  few  who  have  learned 
[37] 


356132 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

to  love  us,  not  because  of  fame,  but  because 
we  have  helped  them  and  done  them  some 
good. 

This  thought  brings  us,  you  see,  within 
clear  sight  of  the  fourth  practical  aim  in  life, 
— the  one  end  that  is  really  worth  working 
for, — usefulness.  To  desire  and  strive  to  be 
of  some  service  to  the  world,  to  aim  at  do 
ing  something  which  shall  really  increase  the 
happiness  and  welfare  and  virtue  of  man 
kind — this  is  a  choice  which  is  possible  for 
all  of  us;  and  surely  it  is  a  good  haven  to 
sail  for. 

The  more  we  think  of  it,  the  more  at 
tractive  and  desirable  it  becomes.  To  do 
some  work  that  is  needed,  and  to  do  it  thor 
oughly  well;  to  make  our  toil  count  for 
something  in  adding  to  the  sum  total  of  what 
is  actually  profitable  for  humanity ;  to  make 
two  blades  of  grass  grow  where  one  grew 
before,  or,  better  still,  to  make  one  whole 
some  idea  take  root  in  a  mind  that  was  bare 
and  fallow;  to  make  our  example  count  for 
something  on  the  side  of  honesty,  and  cheer 
fulness,  and  courage,  and  good  faith,  and 
love — this  is  an  aim  for  life  which  is  very 

[38] 


THE  HAVEN  OF  WORK 

wide,  as  wide  as  the  world,  and  yet  very  de 
finite,  as  clear  as  light.  It  is  not  in  the  least 
vague.  It  is  only  free;  it  has  the  power  to 
embody  itself  in  a  thousand  forms  without 
changing  its  character.  Those  who  seek  it 
know  what  it  means,  however  it  may  be  ex 
pressed.  It  is  real  and  genuine  and  satisfy 
ing.  There  is  nothing  beyond  it,  because 
there  can  be  no  higher  practical  result  of 
effort.  It  is  the  translation,  through  many 
languages,  of  the  true,  divine  purpose  of 
all  the  work  and  labour  that  is  done  beneath 
the  sun,  into  one  final,  universal  word.  It  is 
the  active  consciousness  of  personal  har 
mony  with  the  will  of  God  who  worketh 
hitherto. 

To  have  this  for  the  chief  aim  in  life 
ennobles  and  dignifies  all  that  it  touches. 
Wealth  that  comes  as  the  reward  of  use 
fulness  can  be  accepted  with  honour;  and, 
consecrated  to  further  usefulness,  it  be 
comes  royal.  Fame  that  comes  from  noble 
service,  the  gratitude  of  men,  be  they  few 
or  many,  to  one  who  has  done  them  good, 
is  true  glory;  and  the  influence  that  it 
brings  is  as  near  to  godlike  power  as  any- 
[39] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

thing  that  man  can  attain.  But  whether  these 
temporal  rewards  are  bestowed  upon  us  or 
not,  the  real  desire  of  the  soul  is  satisfied 
just  in  being  useful.  The  pleasantest  word 
that  a  man  can  hear  at  the  close  of  the  day, 
whispered  in  secret  to  his  soul,  is, "Well 
done,  good  and  faithful  servant!" 

Christ  tells  us  this:  "He  that  loseth  his 
life  shall  find  it."  "Whosoever  will  be  great 
among  you,  let  him  be  your  minister;  and 
whosoever  will  be  chief  among  you,  let  him 
be  your  servant." 

Life  is  divine  when  duty  is  a  joy. 

Do  we  accept  these  sailing  orders?  Is  it 
really  the  desired  haven  of  all  our  activity 
to  do  some  good  in  the  world;  to  carry  our 
share  of  the  great  world's  burden  which 
must  be  borne,  to  bring  our  lading  of  trea 
sure,  be  it  small  or  great,  safely  into  the 
port  of  usefulness?  I  wonder  how  many  of 
us  have  faced  the  question  and  settled  it.  It 
goes  very  deep. 


[40] 


IV 
THE  HAVEN  OF  CHARACTER 

BUT  deeper  still  the  question  goes  when 
we  look  at  it  in  another  light.  Our 
life  is  made  up,  not  of  actions  alone,  but  of 
thoughts  and  feelings  and  habitual  affections. 
These  taken  all  together  constitute  what 
we  call  our  present  character.  In  their  ten 
dencies  and  impulses  and  dominant  desires 
they  constitute  our  future  character,  towards 
which  we  are  moving  as  a  ship  to  her  haven. 

What  is  it,  then,  for  you  and  me,  this 
intimate  ideal,  this  distant  self,  this  hidden 
form  of  personality  which  is  our  goal? 

I  am  sure  that  we  do  not  often  enough 
put  the  problem  clearly  before  us  in  this 
shape.  We  all  dream  of  the  future,  espe 
cially  when  we  are  young. 

A  boy's  will  is  the  wind's  will, 
And  the  thoughts  of  youth  are  long,  long 
thoughts. 

But  our  dreams  are  too  much  like  the 
modern  stage,  full  of  elaborate  scenery  and 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

machinery,  crowded  with  startling  effects 
and  brilliant  costumes  and  magical  trans 
formations,  but  strangely  vacant  of  all  real 
character. 

The  stuff  of  which  our  day-dreams  are 
made  is  for  the  most  part  of  very  cheap 
material.  We  seldom  weave  into  them  the 
threads  of  our  inmost  spiritual  life.  We 
build  castles  in  Spain,  and  forecast  adven 
tures  in  Bohemia.  But  the  castle  is  without 
a  real  master.  The  hero  of  the  adventure 
is  vague  and  misty.  We  do  not  clearly  re 
cognize  his  face,  or  know  what  is  in  his 
heart. 

We  picture  ourselves  as  living  here  or 
there;  we  imagine  ourselves  as  members  of 
a  certain  circle  of  society,  taking  our  places 
among  the  rich,  the  powerful,  the  "smart 
set."  We  fancy  ourselves  going  through 
the  various  experiences  of  life,  a  fortunate 
marriage,  a  successful  business  career,  a  lit 
erary  triumph,  a  political  victory.  Or  per 
haps,  if  our  imagination  is  of  a  more  sombre 
type,  we  foreshadow  ourselves  in  circum 
stances  of  defeat  and  disappointment  and 
adversity.  But  in  all  these  reveries  we  do 
[42] 


THE  HAVEN  OF  CHARACTER 

not  really  think  deeply  of  our  Selves.  We 
do  not  stay  to  ask  what  manner  of  men 
and  women  we  shall  be,  when  we  are  liv 
ing  here  or  there,  or  doing  thus  or  so. 

Yet  it  is  an  important  question, — very 
much  more  important,  in  fad:,  than  the  thou 
sand  and  one  trifling  interrogatories  about 
the  future  with  which  we  amuse  our  idle 
hours. 

And  the  strange  thing  is  that,  though 
our  ideal  of  future  character  is  so  often  hid 
den  from  us,  overlooked,  forgotten,  it  is 
always  there,  and  always  potently,  though 
unconsciously,  shaping  our  course  in  life. 
"Every  one,"  says  Cervantes,  "is  the  son 
of  his  own  works."  But  his  works  do  not 
come  out  of  the  air,  by  chance.  They  are 
wrought  out  in  a  secret,  instinctive  harmony 
with  a  conception  of  character  which  we  in 
wardly  acknowledge  as  possible  and  likely 
for  us. 

When  we  choose  between  two  lines  of 
conduct,  between  a  mean  action  and  a  noble 
one,  we  choose  also  between  two  persons, 
both  bearing  our  name,  the  one  represent 
ing  what  is  best  in  us,  the  other  embody- 
[43] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

ing  what  is  worst.  When  we  vacillate  and 
alternate  between  them,  we  veer,  as  the  man 
in  Robert  Louis  Stevenson's  story  veered, 
between  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde. 

We  say  that  we  "make  up  our  minds" 
to  do  a  certain  thing  or  not  to  do  it,  to  re 
sist  a  certain  temptation  or  to  yield  to  it. 
It  is  true.  We  "make  up  our  minds"  in 
a  deeper  sense  than  we  remember.  In  every 
case  the  ultimate  decision  is  between  two 
future  selves,  one  with  whom  the  virtue  is 
harmonious,  another  with  whom  the  vice 
is  consistent.  To  one  of  these  two  figures, 
dimly  concealed  behind  the  action,  we  move 
forward.  What  we  forget  is  that,  when  the 
forward  step  is  taken,  the  shadow  will  be 
myself.  Character  is  eternal  destiny. 

There  is  a  profound  remark  in  George 
Eliot's  "  Middlemarch"  which  throws  light 
far  down  into  the  abyss  of  many  a  lost  life. 
"We  are  on  a  perilous  margin  when  we  be 
gin  to  look  passively  at  our  future  selves, 
and  see  our  own  figures  led  with  dull  con 
sent  into  insipid  misdoing  and  shabby 
achievement."  But  there  is  a  brighter  side 
to  this  same  truth  of  life  philosophy.  We 
[  44  ] 


THE  HAVEN  OF  CHARACTER 
are  on  a  path  which  leads  upward,  by  sure 
and  steady  steps,  when  we  begin  to  look 
at  our  future  selves  with  eyes  of  noble  hope 
and  clear  purpose, and  see  our  figures  climb 
ing,  with  patient,  dauntless  effort,  towards 
the  heights  of  true  manhood  and  woman 
hood.  Visions  like  these  are  Joseph's  dreams. 
They  are  stars  for  guidance.  They  are 
sheaves  of  promise.  The  very  memory  of 
them,  if  we  cherish  it,  is  a  power  of  pure  re 
straint  and  generous  inspiration. 

Oh,  for  a  new  generation  of  day-dream 
ers,  young  men  and  maidens  who  shall  be 
hold  visions,  idealists  who  shall  see  them 
selves  as  the  heroes  of  coming  conflicts,  the 
heroines  of  yet  unwritten  epics  of  trium 
phant  compassion  and  stainless  love.  From 
their  hearts  shall  spring  the  renaissance  of 
faith  and  hope.  The  ancient  charm  of  true 
romance  shall  flow  forth  again  to  glorify 
the  world  in  the  brightness  of  their  ardent 
eyes, — 

The  light  that  never  was  on  land  or  sea, 
The  consecration  and  the  poet's  dream. 

As  they  go  out  from  the  fair  gardens  of 
[45] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

a  visionary  youth  into  the  wide,  confused, 
turbulent  field  of  life,  they  will  bring  with 
them  the  marching  music  of  a  high  resolve. 
They  will  strive  to  fulfil  the  fine  prophecy 
of  their  own  best  desires.  They  will  not  ask 
whether  life  is  worth  living, — they  will  make 
it  so.  They  will  transform  the  sordid  "strug 
gle  for  existence  "  into  a  glorious  effort  to 
become  that  which  they  have  admired  and 
loved. 

But  such  a  new  generation  is  possible  only 
through  the  regenerating  power  of  the  truth 
that  "a  man's  life  consisteth  not  in  the  abun 
dance  of  the  things  that  he  possesseth."  We 
must  learn  to  recognize  the  real  realities, 
and  to  hold  them  far  above  the  perishing 
trappings  of  existence  which  men  call  real. 

The  glory  of  our  life  below 

Comes  not  from  what  we  do  or  what  we  know, 

But  dwells  for  evermore  in  what  we  are. 

"He  only  is  advancing  in  life," says  John 
Ruskin,"  whose  heart  is  getting  softer,  whose 
blood  warmer,  whose  brain  quicker,  whose 
spirit  is  entering  into  Living  peace.  And  the 
men  who  have  this  life  in  them  are  the  true 

[46] 


THE  HAVEN  OF  CHARACTER 

lords  or  kings  of  the  earth — they,  and  they 
only." 

Now  I  think  you  can  see  what  is  meant 
by  this  question  of  the  desired  haven  in 
character.  What  manner  of  men  and  wo 
men  do  we  truly  hope  and  wish  to  become? 

The  number  of  ideals  seems  infinite.  But, 
after  all,  there  are  only  two  great  types. 
St.  Paul  calls  them  "the  carnal"  and  "the 
spiritual;"  and  I  know  of  no  better  names. 

The  carnal  type  of  character,  weak  or 
strong,  clever  or  stupid,  is  always  self-ruled, 
governed  by  its  own  appetites  and  pas 
sions,  seeking  its  own  ends,  and,  even  when 
conformed  to  some  outward  law  or  code  of 
honour,  obedient  only  because  it  finds  its 
own  advantage  or  comfort  therein.  There  is 
many  a  man  who  stands  upright  only  be 
cause  the  pressure  of  the  crowd  makes  it 
inconvenient  for  him  to  stoop.  "The  churl 
in  spirit"  may  speak  fair  words  because  of 
those  who  hear;  but  in  his  heart  he  says  the 
thing  that  pleases  him,  which  is  vile. 

The  spiritual  type  of  character  is  divinely 
ruled,  submissive  to  a  higher  law,  doing  an 
other  will  than  its  own,  seeking  the  ends  of 
[47] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

virtue  and  holiness  and  unselfish  love.  It 
may  have  many  inward  struggles,  many  de 
feats,  many  bitter  renunciations  and  regrets. 
It  may  appear  far  less  peaceful,  orderly, 
self-satisfied,  than  some  of  those  who  are 
secretly  following  the  other  ideal.  Many  a 
saint  in  the  making  seems  to  be  marred  by 
faults  and  conflicts  from  which  the  smug, 
careful,  reputable  sensualist  is  exempt.  The 
difference  between  the  two  is  not  one  of  po 
sition.  It  is  one  of  direction.  The  one,  how 
ever  high  he  stands,  is  moving  down.  The 
other,  however  low  he  starts,  is  moving  up. 
We  all  know  who  it  is  that  stands  at  the 
very  summit  of  the  spiritual  pathway, — 
Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  who  became 
a  perfect  man,  leaving  us  an  example  that 
we  should  follow  in  his  steps.  We  know, 
too,  the  steps  in  which  he  trod, — obedi 
ence,  devotion,  purity,  truthfulness,  kind 
ness,  resistance  of  temptation,  self-sacrifice. 
And  we  know  the  result  of  following  him, 
until  we  come,  in  the  unity  of  the  faith  and 
of  the  knowledge  of  the  Son  of  God,  unto  a 
perfect  manhood,  unto  the  measure  of  the 
stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ. 
[48  ] 


THE  HAVEN  OF  CHARACTER 

Which  type  of  character  do  we  honestly 
desire  and  expect  to  reach?  Let  us  not  in 
dulge  in  any  delusions  about  it.  Just  as 
surely  as  our  faces  are  hardening  into  a 
certain  expression,  ugly  or  pleasant,  and  our 
bodies  are  moving  towards  a  certain  con 
dition  of  health,  sound  or  diseased,  so  surely 
are  our  souls  moving  towards  a  certain  type 
of  character.  Along  which  line  are  we  look 
ing  and  steering?  —  along  the  line  that  leads 
to  an  older,  grayer,  stiffer  likeness  of  our 
present  selves,  with  all  our  selfishness  and 
pride  and  impurity  and  inconsistency  and 
discontent  confirmed  and  hardened;  or  the 
line  that  ends  in  likeness  to  Christ? 

Surely  we  are  voyaging  blindly  unless  we 
know  what  haven  of  character  our  souls  are 
seeking.  Surely  we  are  making  a  mad  and 
base  and  fatal  choice,  unless  we  direct  our 
course  to  the  highest  and  the  noblest  goal. 
To  know  Christ  is  life  eternal.  To  become 
like  Christ  is  success  everlasting. 


[49] 


THE  LAST  PORT 

THERE  is  still  one  more  way  of  put 
ting  this  question  about  our  desired 
haven, — a  way  perhaps  more  common  than 
the  others,  and  therefore  probably  more 
natural,  though  I  cannot  believe  that  it  is 
more  important.  It  is, in  fact:,  simply  a  carry 
ing  on  of  the  first  two  questions  beyond 
the  horizon  of  mortal  sight,  a  prolongation 
of  the  voyage  of  life  upon  the  ocean  of 
eternity. 

Almost  all  of  us  have  an  expectation, 
however  dim  and  misty,  of  an  existence  of 
some  kind  after  we  have  crossed  the  bar  of 
death.  Even  those  who  do  not  believe  that 
this  existence  will  be  conscious,  those  who 
suppose  that  death  ends  all,  so  far  as  our 
thought  and  feeling  are  concerned,  and  that 
the  soul  goes  out  when  the  heart  stops, — 
even  the  doubters  of  immortality  foresee  a 
certain  kind  of  a  haven  for  their  lives  in  the 
deep,  dreamless,  endless  sleep  of  oblivion. 
There  is  no  one  now  living  who  does  not 
[So] 


THE  LAST  PORT 

owe  a  clear  and  definite  answer  to  the  ques 
tion  :  Where  do  you  wish  and  expect  to  go 
when  you  die? 

Now,  I  am  quite  sure  that  we  have  no 
right  to  try  to  separate  this  question  of  our 
haven  after  death  from  the  questions  in  re 
gard  to  our  present  aspirations  and  efforts 
in  conduct  and  character.  For  every  one 
who  considers  it  soberly  must  see  that  our 
future  destiny  cannot  possibly  be  anything 
else  than  the  reward  and  consequence  of 
our  present  life.  Whether  it  be  a  state 
of  spiritual  blessedness,  or  an  experience  of 
spiritual  woe,  or  simply  a  blank  extinction, 
it  will  come  as  the  result  of  the  deeds  done 
in  the  body.  It  will  be  the  fitting  and  in 
evitable  arrival  at  a  goal  towards  which  we 
have  been  moving  in  all  our  actions,  and 
for  which  we  have  been  preparing  ourselves 
by  all  the  secret  affections  and  hopes  and 
beliefs  which  we  are  daily  working  into  our 
characters. 

But  there  is  a  reason,  after  all,  and  a  very 
profound  reason,  why  we  should  sometimes 
put  this  question  of  our  desired  haven  after 
death  in  a  distinct  form,  and  why  we  should 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

try  to  give  a  true  and  honest  answer  to  it, 
with  an  outlook  that  goes  beyond  the  grave. 

It  is  because  the  answer  will  certainly  de 
termine  our  conduct  now,  and  there  is  every 
reason  to  believe  that  it  will  affect  the  re 
sult  hereafter. 

Men  say  that  the  future  life  is  only  a 
possibility,  or  at  best  a  probability,  and  that 
it  is  foolish  to  waste  our  present  existence 
in  the  consideration  of  problems  to  which 
the  only  answer  must  be  a  "perhaps,"  or 
"I  hope  so,"  or  "I  believe  so."  But  is  it 
not  one  of  the  very  conditions  of  our  ad 
vance,  even  in  this  world,  that  we  should 
be  forever  going  forward  along  lines  which 
lie  altogether  in  the  region  of  the  probable, 
and  for  which  we  have  no  better  security 
than  our  own  expectation  and  wish  that  they 
shall  lead  us  to  the  truth,  anticipated,  but 
as  yet  unproved  and  really  unknown? 

"So  far  as  man  stands  for  anything," 
writes  Professor  William  James,  the  psy 
chologist,  in  his  latest  book,  "The  Will  to 
Believe,"  "and  is  productive  or  originative 
at  all,  his  entire  vital  function  may  be  said 
to  have  to  deal  with  maybes.  Not  a  victory  is 
[  52] 


THE  LAST  PORT 

gained,  not  a  deed  of  faithfulness  or  courage 
is  done,  except  upon  a  maybe ;  not  a  service, 
not  a  sally  of  generosity,  not  a  scientific  ex 
ploration  or  experiment  or  text-book,  that 
may  not  be  a  mistake.  It  is  only  by  risking 
our  persons  from  one  hour  to  another  that 
we  live  at  all.  And  often  enough  our  faith  be 
forehand  in  an  uncertified  result  is  the  only 
thing  that  makes  the  result  come  true" 

Surely  this  is  certain  enough  in  regard  to 
the  difference  between  this  present  life  as 
a  dull  and  dismal  struggle  for  the  meat  and 
drink  that  are  necessary  for  an  animal  ex 
istence,  and  as  a  noble  and  beautiful  con 
flict  for  moral  and  spiritual  ends.  //  is  the 
faith  that  makes  the  result  come  true.  As  a  man 
thinketh  in  his  heart,  so  is  he,  and  so  is  his 
world.  For  those  whose  thoughts  are  earthly 
and  sensual,  this  is  a  beast's  world.  For 
those  whose  thoughts  are  high  and  noble 
and  heroic,  it  is  a  hero's  world. The  strength 
of  wishes  transforms  the  very  stuff  of  our 
existence,  and  moulds  it  to  the  form  of  our 
heart's  inmost  desire  and  hope. 

Why  should  it  not  be  true  in  the  world 
to  come?  Why  should  not  the  eternal  re- 
[  53] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

suit,  as  well  as  the  present  course,  of  our 
voyaging  depend  upon  our  own  choice  of 
a  haven  beyond  the  grave?  Christ  says  that 
it  does.  "Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God." 
"  Lay  not  up  for  yourselves  treasures  upon 
earth,  but  lay  up  for  yourselves  treasures 
in  heaven." 

If  the  immortal  life  is  a  reality,  is  it  not 
reasonable  to  think  that  the  first  condition 
of  our  attaining  it  is  that  we  should  per 
sonally  wish  for  it,  and  strive  to  enter  into 
it?  And  must  not  our  neglect  or  refusal  to 
do  this  be  the  one  thing  that  will  inevitably 
shut  us  out  from  it,  and  make  our  eternity 
an  outer  darkness? 

Mark  you,  I  do  not  say  that  it  is  reason 
able  to  suppose  that  we  must  be  absolutely 
certain  of  the  reality  of  heaven  in  order  to 
arrive  thither. 

We  may  have  many  doubts  and  misgiv 
ings.  But  deep  down  in  our  hearts  there 
must  be  the  wish  to  prove  the  truth  of  this 
great  hope  of  an  endless  life  with  God,  and 
the  definite  resolve  to  make  this  happy  ha 
ven  the  end  of  all  our  voyaging. 

This  is  what  the  apostle  means  by  "the 
[54] 


THE  LAST  PORT 

power  of  an  endless  life."  The  passion  of 
immortality  is  the  thing  that  immortalizes 
our  being.  To  be  in  love  with  heaven  is  the 
surest  way  to  be  fitted  for  it.  Desire  is  the 
magnetic  force  of  character.  Character  is  the 
compass  of  life.  "He  that  hath  this  hope  in 
him  purifieth  himself." 

Let  me,  then,  put  this  question  to  you 
very  simply  and  earnestly  and  personally. 

What  is  your  desired  haven  beyond  the 
grave?  It  is  for  you  to  choose.  There  are 
no  secret  books  of  fate  in  which  your  course 
is  traced,  and  your  destiny  irrevocably  ap 
pointed.  There  is  only  the  Lamb's  book  of 
life,  in  which  new  names  are  being  written 
every  day,  as  new  hearts  turn  from  dark 
ness  to  light,  and  from  the  kingdom  of 
Satan  to  the  kingdom  of  God.  No  ship  that 
sails  the  sea  is  as  free  to  make  for  her  port 
as  you  are  to  seek  the  haven  that  your  in 
most  soul  desires.  And  if  your  choice  is 
right,  and  if  your  desire  is  real,  so  that  you 
will  steer  and  strive  with  God's  help  to  reach 
the  goal,  you  shall  never  be  wrecked  or  lost. 

For  of  every  soul  that  seeks  to  arrive  at 
usefulness,  which  is  the  service  of  Christ, 
[55] 


SHIPS  AND  HAVENS 

and  at  holiness,  which  is  the  likeness  of 
Christ,  and  at  heaven,  which  is  the  eternal 
presence  of  Christ,  it  is  written :  So  he  bringeth 
them  unto  their  desired  haven. 

Like  unto  ships  far  off  at  sea, 

Outward  or  homeward  bound,  are  we. 

Before,  behind,  and  all  around, 

Floats  and  swings  the  horizon's  bound, 

Seems  at  its  distant  rim  to  rise 

And  climb  the  crystal  wall  of  the  skies, 

And  then  again  to  turn  and  sink 

As  if  we  could  slide  from  its  outer  brink. 

Ah!  it  is  not  the  sea, 

It  is  not  the  sea  that  sinks  and  shelves, 

But  ourselves 

That  rock  and  rise 

With  endless  and  uneasy  motion, 

Now  touching  the  very  skies, 

Now  sinking  into  the  depths  of  ocean. 

Ah!  if  our  souls  but  poise  and  swing 

Like  the  compass  in  its  brazen  ring, 

Ever  level  and  ever  true 

To  the  toil  and  the  task  we  have  to  do, 

We  shall  sail  securely,  and  safely  reach 

The  Fortunate  Isles,  on  whose  shining  beach 

The  sights  we  see,  and  the  sounds  we  hear, 

Will  be  those  of  joy  and  not  of  fear.* 

*  Longfellow.  r       ,    -, 

[    56    ] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

THIS  little  book  is  intended  as  a  brief 
and  simple  introduction  to  the  study 
of  the  Psalms,  in  English,  as  poetry. 

There  are  three  ways  in  which  we  may 
study  the  Bible :  as  a  revelation,  as  a  docu 
ment,  and  as  literature. 

We  may  study  it  as  the  divinely  inspired 
and  perfect  rule  of  faith  and  conduct.  This 
is  the  point  of  view  from  which  it  appears 
most  precious.  For  this  is  what  we  need 
most  of  all :  the  word  of  God  to  teach  us 
what  to  believe  and  how  to  live. 

We  may  study  it  as  a  collection  of  his 
torical  books,  written  under  certain  condi 
tions,  and  reflecting,  in  their  contents  and 
in  their  language,  the  circumstances  in  which 
they  were  produced.  This  is  the  aspect  in 
which  criticism  regards  the  Bible;  and  its 
intellectual  interest,  as  well  as  its  religious 
value,  is  greatly  enhanced  by  a  clear  vision 
of  the  truth  about  it  from  this  point  of  view. 

We  may  study  it  also  as  literature.  We 
may  sec  in  it  a  noble  and  impassioned  in- 
[59] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 
terpretation  of  nature  and  life,  uttered  in 
language  of  beauty  and  sublimity,  touched 
with  the  vivid  colours  of  human  personality, 
and  embodied  in  forms  of  enduring  liter 
ary  art. 

None  of  these  three  ways  of  studying  the 
Bible  is  hostile  to  the  others.  On  the  con 
trary,  they  are  helpful  to  one  another,  be 
cause  each  of  them  gives  us  knowledge  of 
a  real  factor  in  the  marvellous  influence  of 
the  Bible  in  the  world. 

The  true  lover  of  the  Bible  has  an  in 
terest  in  all  the  elements  of  its  life  as  an 
immortal  book.  He  wishes  to  discern,  and 
rightly  to  appreciate,  the  method  of  its  his 
tory,  the  spirit  of  its  philosophy,  the  sig 
nificance  of  its  fiction,  the  power  of  its  elo 
quence,  and  the  charm  of  its  poetry.  He 
wishes  this  all  the  more  because  he  finds 
in  it  something  which  is  not  in  any  other 
book:  a  vision  of  God,  a  hope  for  man,  and 
an  inspiration  to  righteousness  which  are 
evidently  divine.  As  the  worshipper  in  the 
Temple  would  observe  the  art  and  structure 
of  the  carven  beams  of  cedar  and  the  lily- 
work  on  the  tops  of  the  pillars  the  more 
[  60  ] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

attentively  because  they  beautified  the  house 
of  his  God,  so  the  man  who  has  a  religious 
faith  in  the  Bible  will  study  more  eagerly 
and  carefully  the  literary  forms  of  the  book 
in  which  the  Holy  Spirit  speaks  forever. 

We  shall  do  wisely  to  consider  and  ap 
preciate  the  poetical  element  in  the  Psalms. 
The  comfort,  help,  and  guidance  that  they 
bring  to  our  spiritual  life  will  not  be  di 
minished,  but  increased,  by  a  perception  of 
their  exquisite  form  and  finish.  If  a  king 
sent  a  golden  cup  full  of  cheering  cordial  to 
a  weary  man,  he  might  well  admire  the  two 
fold  bounty  of  the  royal  gift.  The  beauty 
of  the  vessel  would  make  the  draught  more 
grateful  and  refreshing.  And  if  the  cup  were 
inexhaustible,  if  it  filled  itself  anew  as  often 
as  it  touched  the  lips,  then  the  very  shape 
and  adornment  of  it  would  become  signi 
ficant  and  precious.  It  would  be  an  inesti 
mable  possession,  a  singing  goblet,  a  trea 
sure  of  life. 

John  Milton,  whose  faith  in  religion  was 

as   exalted   as   his  mastery  of  the  art  of 

poetry  was  perfect,  has  expressed  in  a  single 

sentence  the  spirit  in  which  I  would  ap- 

[61  ] 


- 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

proach  the  poetic  study  of  the  Book  of 
Psalms:  "Not  in  their  divine  arguments 
alone,  but  in  the  very  critical  art  of  compo 
sition,  the  Psalms  may  be  easily  made  to 
appear  over  all  kinds  of  lyric  poetry  incom 
parable." 


[62] 


I 

E1T  us  remember  at  the  outset  that  a 
considerable  part  of  the  value  of  the 
Psalms  as  poetry  will  lie  beyond  the  reach 
of  this  essay.  We  cannot  precisely  measure 
it,  nor  give  it  a  full  appreciation,  simply 
because  we  shall  be  dealing  with  the  Psalms 
only  as  we  have  them  in  our  English  Bible. 
This  is  a  real  drawback ;  and  it  will  be  well 
to  state  clearly  the  two  things  that  we  lose 
in  reading  the  Psalms  in  this  way. 

First,  we  lose  the  beauty  and  the  charm 
of  verse.  This  is  a  serious  loss.  Poetry  and 
verse  are  not  the  same  thing,  but  they  are 
so  intimately  related  that  it  is  difficult  to 
divide  them.  Indeed,  according  to  certain 
definitions  of  poetry,  it  would  seem  almost 
impossible. 

Suppose,  for  example,  that  we  accept  this 
definition :  "  Poetry  is  that  variety  of  the 
Literature  of  Emotion  which  is  written  in 
metrical  form."*  How,  then,  can  we  have 
poetry  when  the  form  is  not  metrical? 

*  Principlct  of  Literary  Criticism.  C.  T.  Winchester.  Page  232. 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

Yet  who  will  deny  that  the  Psalms  as  we 
have  them  in  the  English  Bible  are  really 
and  truly  poetry? 

The  only  way  out  of  this  difficulty  that 
I  can  see  is  to  distinguish  between  verse 
as  the  formal  element  and  rhythmical  emo 
tion  as  the  essential  element  in  poetry.  In 
the  original  production  of  a  poem,  it  seems 
to  me,  it  is  just  to  say  that  the  embodiment 
in  metrical  language  is  a  law  of  art  which 
must  be  observed.  But  in  the  translation  of 
a  poem  (which  is  a  kind  of  reflection  of  it 
in  a  mirror)  the  verse  may  be  lost  without 
altogether  losing  the  poem. 

Take  an  illustration  from  another  art.  A 
statue  has  the  symmetry  of  solid  form.  You 
can  look  at  it  from  all  sides,  and  from  every 
side  you  can  see  the  balance  and  rhythm  of 
the  parts.  In  a  photograph  this  solidity  of 
form  disappears.  You  see  only  a  flat  sur 
face.  But  you  still  recognize  it  as  the  re 
flection  of  a  statue. 

The  Psalms  were  undoubtedly  written, 
in  the  original  Hebrew,  according  to  a  sys 
tem  of  versification,  and  perhaps  to  some 
extent  with  forms  of  rhyme. 
[  64] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

The  older  scholars,  like  Lowth  and  Her 
der,  held  that  such  a  system  existed,  but 
could  not  be  recovered.  Later  scholars,  like 
Ewald,  evolved  a  system  of  their  own.  Mo 
dern  scholarship,  represented  by  such  au 
thors  as  Professors  Cheyne  and  Briggs,  is 
reconstructing  and  explaining  more  accu 
rately  the  Hebrew  versification.  But,  for  the 
present  at  least,  the  only  thing  that  is  clear 
is  that  this  system  must  remain  obscure  to 
us.  It  cannot  be  reproduced  in  English.  The 
metrical  versions  of  the  Psalms  are  the  least 
satisfactory.  The  poet  Cowley  said  of  them, 
"They  are  so  far  from  doing  justice  to  David 
that  methinks  they  revile  him  worse  than 
Shimei."  *  We  must  learn  to  appreciate  the 
poetry  of  the  Psalms  without  the  aid  of 
those  symmetries  of  form  and  sound  in 
which  they  first  appeared.  This  is  a  serious 
loss.  Poetry  without  verse  is  still  poetry, 
but  it  is  like  a  bride  without  a  bridal  gar 
ment. 

The  second  thing  that  we  lose  in  reading 
the  Psalms  in  English  is  something  even 

*  The  fforkt  of  Mr.  Abraham  Cwoley.  3  vols.  London,  1710.  Pre 
face  to  Pindarique  Odes.  Volume  i.  page  184. 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

more  important.  It  is  the  heavy  tax  on  the 
wealth  of  its  meaning,  which  all  poetry  must 
pay  when  it  is  imported  from  one  country 
to  another,  through  the  medium  of  transla 
tion. 

The  most  subtle  charm  of  poetry  is  its 
suggestiveness ;  and  much  of  this  comes  from 
the  magical  power  which  words  acquire  over 
memory  and  imagination,  from  their  asso 
ciations.  This  intimate  and  personal  charm 
must  be  left  behind  when  a  poem  passes 
from  one  language  to  another.  The  accom 
paniment,  the  harmony  of  things  remem 
bered  and  beloved,  which  the  very  words 
of  the  song  once  awakened,  is  silent  now. 
Nothing  remains  but  the  naked  melody  of 
thought.  If  this  is  pure  and  strong,  it  will 
gather  new  associations;  as,  indeed,  the 
Psalms  have  already  done  in  English,  so 
that  their  familiar  expressions  have  become 
charged  with  musical  potency.  And  yet  I 
suppose  such  phrases  as  "a  tree  planted  by 
the  streams  of  water,"  "a  fruitful  vine  in 
the  innermost  parts  of  the  house,"  "the 
mountains  round  about  Jerusalem,"  can 
never  bring  to  us  the  full  sense  of  beauty, 
[  66] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

the  enlargement  of  heart,  that  they  gave  to 
the  ancient  Hebrews. 


But,  in  spite  of  this  double  loss,  in  the  pas 
sage  from  verse  to  prose  and  from  Hebrew 
to  English,  the  poetry  of  the  Psalms  is  so 
real  and  vital  and  imperishable  that  every 
reader  feels  its  beauty  and  power. 

It  retains  one  valuable  element  of  poetic 
form.  This  is  that  balancing  of  the  parts  of 
a  sentence,  one  against  another,  to  which 
Bishop  Lowth  first  gave  the  familiar  name 
of  "parallelism."*  The  effect  of  this  simple 
artifice,  learned  from  Nature  herself,  is 
singularly  pleasant  and  powerful.  It  is  the 
rise  and  fall  of  the  fountain,  the  ebb  and 
flow  of  the  tide,  the  tone  and  overtone  of 
the  chiming  bell.  The  twofold  utterance 
seems  to  bear  the  thought  onward  like  the 
wings  of  a  bird.  A  German  writer  compares 
it  very  exquisitely  to  "the  heaving  and  sink 
ing  of  the  troubled  heart." 

It  is  this  "parallelism"  which  gives  such 
a  familiar  charm  to  the  language  of  the 

*  Lowth.  De  Sacra  Poesi  Hebraeorum  Praelefiiones.  Oxon.,  1753. 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

Psalms.  Unconsciously,  and  without  recog 
nizing  the  nature  of  the  attraction,  we  grow 
used  to  the  double  cadence,  the  sound  and 
the  echo,  and  learn  to  look  for  its  recurrence 
with  delight. 

O  come  let  us  sing  unto  the  Lord; 

Let  us  make  a  joyful  noise  to  the  rock  of  our 
salvation, 

Let  us  come  before  his  presence  with  thanks 
giving; 

And  make  a  joyful  noise  unto  him  with  psalms. 

If  we  should  want  a  plain  English  name 
for  this  method  of  composition  we  might 
call  it  thought-rhyme.  It  is  easy  to  find  varied 
illustrations  of  its  beauty  and  of  its  power 
to  emphasize  large  and  simple  ideas. 

Take  for  instance  that  very  perfect  psalm 
with  which  the  book  begins — a  poem  so 
complete,  so  compact,  so  delicately  wrought 
that  it  seems  like  a  sonnet.  The  subject  is 
Thf  Two  Paths. 

The  first  part  describes  the  way  of  the 
good  man.  It  has  three  divisions. 

The  first  verse  gives  a  description  of  his 
conduct  by  negatives — telling  us  what  he 

[68] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

does  not  do.  There  is  a  triple  thought-rhyme 
here. 

Blessed  is  the  man  that  walketh  not  in  the 

counsel  of  the  ungodly, 
Nor  standeth  in  the  way  of  sinners, 
Nor  sitteth  in  the  seat  of  the  scornful. 

The  second  verse  describes  his  character 
positively,  with  a  double  thought-rhyme. 

But  his  delight  is  in  the  law  of  Jehovah; 
And  in  his  law  doth  he  meditate  day  and  night. 

The  third  verse  tells  us  the  result  of  this 
character  and  conduct,  in  a  fourfold  thought- 
rhyme. 

He  shall  be  like  a  tree  planted  by  the  rivers  of 

water: 

That  bringeth  forth  his  fruit  in  his  season: 
His  leaf  also  shall  not  wither: 
And  whatsoever  he  doeth  shall  prosper. 

The  second  part  of  the  psalm  describes  the 
way  of  the  evil  man.  In  the  fourth  verse 
there  is  a  double  thought-rhyme. 

The  ungodly  are  not  so: 
But  are  like  the  chaff  which  the  wind  driveth 
away. 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

In  the  fifth  verse  the  consequences  of 
this  worthless,  fruitless,  unrooted  life  are 
shown,  again  with  a  double  cadence  of 
thought,  the  first  referring  to  the  judgement 
of  God,  the  second  to  the  judgement  of  men. 

Therefore  the  ungodly  shall  not  stand  in  the 

judgment: 
Nor  sinners  in  the  congregation  of  the  righteous. 

The  third  part  of  the  psalm  is  a  terse, 
powerful  couplet,  giving  the  reason  for  the 
different  ending  of  the  two  paths. 

For  Jehovah  knoweth  the  way  of  the  righteous: 
But  the  way  of  the  ungodly  shall  perish. 

The  thought-rhyme  here  is  one  of  con 
trast. 

A  poem  of  very  different  character  from 
this  brief,  serious,  impersonal  sonnet  is 
found  in  the  Forty-sixth  Psalm,  which 
might  be  called  a  national  anthem.  Here 
again  the  poem  is  divided  into  three  parts. 

The  first  part  (verses  first  to  third)  ex 
presses  a  sense  of  joyful  confidence  in  the 
Eternal,  amid  the  tempests  and  confusions 
of  earth.  The  thought-rhymes  are  in  coup- 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

lets;  and  the  second  phrase,  in  each  case, 
emphasizes  and  enlarges  the  idea  of  the  first 
phrase. 

God  is  our  refuge  and  strength: 
A  very  present  help  in  trouble. 

The  second  part  (verses  fourth  to  seventh) 
describes  the  peace  and  security  of  the  city 
of  God,  surrounded  by  furious  enemies, 
but  rejoicing  in  the  Eternal  Presence.  The 
parallel  phrases  here  follow  the  same  rule 
as  in  the  first  part.  The  concluding  phrase 
is  the  stronger,  the  more  emphatic.  The 
seventh  verse  gives  the  refrain  or  chorus 
of  the  anthem. 

The  Lord  of  hosts  is  with  us : 
The  God  of  Jacob  is  our  refuge. 

The  last  part  (verses  eighth  to  tenth)  de 
scribes  in  a  very  vivid  and  concrete  way 
the  deliverance  of  the  people  that  have 
trusted  in  the  Eternal.lt  begins  with  a  coup 
let,  like  those  which  have  gone  before.  Then 
follow  two  stanzas  of  triple  thought-rhymes, 
in  which  the  thought  is  stated  and  intensi 
fied  with  each  repetition. 

[7-] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 
He  maketh  wars  to  cease  unto  the  end  of  the 

earth: 
He  breaketh  the  bow,  and  cutteth  the  spear  in 

sunder: 
He  burneth  the  chariot  in  the  fire. 

Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God: 
I  will  be  exalted  among  the  heathen : 
I  will  be  exalted  in  the  earth. 

The  anthem  ends  with  a  repetition  of  the 
chorus. 


A  careful  study  of  the  Psalms,  even  in 
English,  will  enable  the  thoughtful  reader 
to  derive  new  pleasure  from  them,  by  tra 
cing  the  many  modes  and  manners  in  which 
this  poetic  form  of  thought-rhyme  is  used 
to  bind  the  composition  together,  and  to 
give  balance  and  harmony  to  the  poem. 


Another  element  of  poetic  form  can  be 
discerned  in  the  Psalms,  not  directly,  in  the 
English  version,  but  by  its  effects.  I  mean 
the  curious  artifice  of  alphabetic  arrange 
ment.  It  was  a  favourite  practice  among  He- 

[7*] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

brew  poets  to  begin  their  verses  with  the 
successive  letters  of  the  alphabet,  or  some 
times  to  vary  the  device  by  making  every 
verse  in  a  strophe  begin  with  one  letter,  and 
every  verse  in  the  next  strophe  with  the 
following  letter,  and  so  on  to  the  end. 
The  Twenty-fifth  and  the  Thirty-seventh 
Psalms  were  written  by  the  first  of  these 
rules;  the  One  Hundred  and  Nineteenth 
Psalm  follows  the  second  plan. 

Of  course  the  alphabetic  artifice  disap 
pears  entirely  in  the  English  translation. 
But  its  effects  remain.  The  Psalms  written 
in  this  manner  usually  have  but  a  single 
theme,whichis  repeated  over  and  over  again, 
in  different  words  and  with  new  illustra 
tions.  They  are  kaleidoscopic.  The  material 
does  not  change,  but  it  is  turned  this  way 
and  that  way,  and  shows  itself  in  new  shapes 
and  arrangements.  These  alphabetic  psalms 
are  characterized  by  poverty  of  action  and 
richness  of  expression. 


[73] 


II 

MILTON  has  already  reminded  us 
that  the  Psalms  belong  to  the  second 
of  the  three  orders  into  which  the  Greeks, 
with  clear  discernment,  divided  all  poetry: 
the  epic,  the  lyric,  and  the  dramatic.  The 
Psalms  are  rightly  called  lyrics  because  they 
are  chiefly  concerned  with  the  immediate 
and  imaginative  expression  of  real  feeling. 
It  is  the  personal  and  emotional  note  that 
predominates.  They  are  inward,  confes 
sional,  intense ;  outpourings  of  the  quick 
ened  spirit;  self-revelations  of  the  heart.  It 
is  for  this  reason  that  we  should  never  sepa 
rate  them  in  our  thought  from  the  actual 
human  life  out  of  which  they  sprang.  We 
must  feel  the  warm  pulse  of  humanity  in 
them  in  order  to  comprehend  their  mean 
ing  and  eternal  worth.  So  far  as  we  can  con 
nect  them  with  the  actual  experience  of  men, 
this  will  help  us  to  appreciate  their  reality 
and  power.  The  effort  to  do  this  will  make 
plain  to  us  some  other  things  which  it  is 
important  to  remember. 

[  74] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

We  shall  see  at  once  that  the  book  does 
not  come  from  a  single  writer,  but  from 
many  authors  and  ages.  It  represents  the 
heart  of  man  in  communion  with  God 
through  a  thousand  years  of  history,  from 
Moses  to  Nehemiah,  perhaps  even  to  the 
time  of  the  Maccabaean  revival.  It  is,  there 
fore,  something  very  much  larger  and  bet 
ter  than  an  individual  book. 

It  is  the  golden  treasury  of  lyrics  gath 
ered  from  the  life  of  the  Hebrew  people. 
And  this  gives  to  it  a  singular  and  precious 
quality  of  brotherhood.  The  fault,  or  at 
least  the  danger,  of  modern  lyrical  poetry 
is  that  it  is  too  solitary  and  separate  in  its 
tone.  It  tends  towards  exclusiveness,  over- 
refinement,  morbid  sentiment.  Many  Chris 
tian  hymns  suffer  from  this  defect.  But  the 
Psalms  breathe  a  spirit  of  human  fellowship 
even  when  they  are  most  intensely  personal. 
The  poet  rejoices  or  mourns  in  solitude,  it 
may  be,  but  not  alone.  He  is  one  of  the 
people.  He  is  conscious  always  of  the  ties 
that  bind  him  to  his  brother  men.  Compare 
the  intense  selfishness  of  the  modern  hymn: 

[  75  ] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

I  can  but  perish  if  I  go; 

I  am  resolved  to  try; 
For  if  I  stay  away,  I  know 

I  shall  forever  die, 

with  the  generous  penitence  of  the  Fifty- 
first  Psalm : 

Then  will  I  teach  transgressors  thy  way; 
And  sinners  shall  be  converted  unto  thee. 

It  is  important  to  observe  that  there  are 
several  different  kinds  of  lyrics  among  the 
Psalms.  Some  of  them  are  simple  and 
natural  outpourings  of  a  single  feeling,  like 
A  Shepherd's  Song  about  His  Shepherd,  in 
the  incomparable  Twenty-third  Psalm. 

This  little  poem  is  a  perfect  melody.  It 
would  be  impossible  to  express  a  pure,  un 
mixed  emotion — the  feeling  of  joy  in  the 
Divine  Goodness  —  more  simply,  more 
sweetly,  with  a  more  penetrating  lyrical 
charm.  The  "valley  of  the  death-shade," 
the  "enemies"  in  whose  presence  the  table 
is  spread,  are  but  dimly  suggested  in  the 
background.  The  atmosphere  of  the  psalm 
is  clear  and  bright.  The  singing  shepherd 
walks  in  light.  The  whole  world  is  the 
[  76] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

House  of  the  Lord,  and  life  is  altogether 
gladness. 

How  different  is  the  tone,  the  quality,  of 
the  One  Hundred  and  Nineteenth  Psalm ! 
This  is  not  a  melody,  but  a  harmony ;  not 
a  song,  but  an  ode.  The  ode  has  been  de 
fined  as  "a  strain  of  exalted  and  enthusi 
astic  lyrical  verse,  directed  to  a  fixed  pur 
pose  and  dealing  progressively  with  one 
dignified  theme."  *  This  definition  precisely 
fits  the  One  Hundred  and  Nineteenth 
Psalm. 

Its  theme  is  I'/ie  Eternal  Word.  Every 
verse  in  the  poem,  except  one,  contains 
some  name  or  description  of  the  law,  com 
mandments,  testimonies,  precepts,  statutes, 
or  judgements  of  Jehovah.  Its  enthusiasm 
for  the  Divine  Righteousness  never  fails 
from  beginning  to  end.  Its  fixed  purpose  is 
to  kindle  in  other  hearts  the  flame  of  de 
votion  to  the  one  Holy  Law.  It  closes  with 
a  touch  of  magnificent  pathos — a  confes 
sion  of  personal  failure  and  an  assertion  of 
spiritual  loyalty: 

*  English  Odet,  sele&ed  by  Edmund  Gosse.  Preface,  page  xiiL 

[  77  ] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 
I  have  gone  astray  like  a  lost  sheep: 
Seek  thy  servant: 
For  I  do  not  forget  thy  commandments. 

The  Fifteenth  Psalm  I  should  call  a  small, 
didactic  lyric.  Its  title  is  'The  Good  Citizen.  It 
begins  with  a  question: 

Jehovah,  who  shall  abide  in  thy  tabernacle? 
Who  shall  dwell  in  thy  holy  hill? 

This  question  is  answered  by  the  descrip 
tion  of  a  man  whose  character  corresponds 
to  the  law  of  God.  First  there  is  a  positive 
sketch  in  three  broad  lines: 

He  that  walketh  uprightly, 
And  worketh  righteousness, 
And  speaketh  truth  in  his  heart. 

Then  comes  a  negative  characterization  in 
a  finely  touched  triplet: 

He  that  backbiteth  not  with  his  tongue, 
Nor  doeth  evil  to  his  neighbour, 
Nor  taketh  up  a  reproach  against  his  neigh 
bour. 

This  is  followed  by  a  couplet  containing  a 
strong  contrast: 

[  78] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 
In  whose  eyes  a  vile  person  is  contemned: 
But  he  honoureth  them  that  fear  Jehovah. 

Then  the  description  goes  back  to  the  ne 
gative  style  again  and  three  more  touches 
are  added  to  the  picture: 

He  that  sweareth  to  his  own  hurt  and 

changeth  not, 

He  that  putteth  not  out  his  money  to  usury, 
Nor  taketh  reward  against  the  innocent. 

The  poem  closes  with  a  single  vigorous 
line,  summing  up  the  character  of  the  good 
citizen  and  answering  the  question  of  the 
first  verse  with  a  new  emphasis  of  security 
and  permanence. 

Doing  these  things,  he  shall  never  be  moved. 

The  Seventy-eighth,  One  Hundred  and 
Fifth,  and  One  Hundred  and  Sixth  Psalms 
are  lyrical  ballads.  They  tell  the  story  of 
Israel  in  Egypt,  and  in  the  Wilderness,  and 
in  Canaan,  with  swift,  stirring  phrases,  and 
with  splendid  flashes  of  imagery.  Take  this 
passage  from  the  Seventy-eighth  Psalm  as 
an  example: 

[79] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

He  clave  the  rocks  in  the  wilderness, 
And  gave  them  drink  out  of  the  great  depths. 

He  brought  streams  also  out  of  the  rock, 
And  caused  waters  to  run  down  like  rivers. 

And  they  sinned  yet  more  against  him, 
Provoking  the  Most  High  in  the  wilderness. 

They  tempted  God  in  their  hearts, 
Asking  meat  for  their  lust. 

Yea,  they  spake  against  God: 
They  said,  Can  God  furnish  a  table  in  the  wil 
derness? 

Behold,  he  smote  the  rock  that  the  waters 

gushed  out, 

And  the  streams  overflowed; 
Can  he  give  bread  also  ? 
Can  he  provide  flesh  for  his  people  ? 

Therefore  Jehovah  heard  and  was  wroth: 
So  a  fire  was  kindled  against  Jacob, 
And  anger  also  came  up  against  Israel: 
Because  they  believed  not  in  God, 
And  trusted  not  in  his  salvation : 

Though  he  had  commanded  the  clouds  from 
above, 

[so] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

And  opened  the  doors  of  heaven, 
And  had  rained  down  manna  upon  them  to  eat, 
And  had  given  them  of  the  corn  of  heaven, 
Man  did  eat  angels'  food: 

He  sent  them  meat  to  the  full. 

He  caused  an  east  wind  to  blow  in  the  heaven, 

And  by  his  power  he  brought  in  the  south  wind. 

He  rained  flesh  also  upon  them  as  dust, 

And  feathered  fowls  like  as  the  sand  of  the  sea. 

And  he  let  it  fall  in  the  midst  of  their  camp, 
Round  about  their  habitations; 
So  they  did  eat  and  were  filled, 
For  he  gave  them  their  own  desire. 

They  were  not  estranged  from  their  lust: 
But  while  the  meat  was  yet  in  their  mouths, 
The  wrath  of  God  came  upon  them,  and  slew  the 

fattest  of  them, 
And  smote  down  the  chosen  men  of  Israel. 

The  Forty-fifth  Psalm  is  a  Marriage  Ode: 
the  Hebrew  title  calls  it  a  Love  Song.  It 
bears  all  the  marks  of  having  been  com 
posed  for  some  royal  wedding-feast  in  Je 
rusalem. 


[8.  ] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 
There  are  many  nature  lyrics  among  the 
Psalms.  The  Twenty-ninth  is  notable  for 
its  rugged  realism.  It  is  a  Song  of  Thunder. 

The  voice  of  the  Lord  breaketh  the  cedars : 
Yea,  the  Lord  breaketh  the  cedars  of  Lebanon : 
He  maketh  them  also  to  skip  like  a  calf: 
Lebanon  and  Sirion  like  a  young  unicorn. 

The  One  Hundred  and  Fourth, on  the  con 
trary,  is  full  of  calm  sublimity  and  medita 
tive  grandeur. 

Jehovah,  my  God,  thou  art  very  great: 
Thou  art  clothed  with  honour  and  majesty : 

Who  coverest  thyself  with  light  as  with  a  gar 
ment; 
Who  stretchest  out  the  heavens  like  a  curtain. 

The  Nineteenth  is  famous  for  its  splendid 
comparison  between  "the  starry  heavens 
and  the  moral  law." 

I  think  that  we  may  find  also  some  dra 
matic  lyrics  among  the  Psalms — poems 
composed  to  express  the  feelings  of  an 
historic  person,  like  David  or  Solomon,  in 
certain  well-known  and  striking  experiences 
of  his  life.  That  a  later  writer  should  thus 
[82] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

embody  and  express  the  truth  dramatically 
through  the  personality  of  some  great  hero 
of  the  past,  involves  no  falsehood.  It  is  a 
mode  of  utterance  which  has  been  common 
to  the  literature  of  all  lands  and  of  all  ages. 
Such  a  method  of  composition  would  cer 
tainly  be  no  hindrance  to  the  spirit  of  in 
spiration.  The  Thirty-first  Psalm,  for  in 
stance,  is  ascribed  by  the  title  to  David.  But 
there  is  strong  reason,  in  the  phraseology 
and  in  the  spirit  of  the  poem,  to  believe  that 
it  was  written  by  the  Prophet  Jeremiah. 


[83] 


Ill 

IT  .is  not  to  be  supposed  that  our  rever 
ence  for  the  Psalms  in  their  moral  and 
religious  aspects  will  make  us  put  them  all 
on  the  same  level  poetically.  There  is  a  dif 
ference  among  the  books  of  the  New  Tes 
tament  in  regard  to  the  purity  and  dignity 
of  the  Greek  in  which  they  are  written. 
There  is  a  difference  among  St.  Paul's  Epis 
tles  in  regard  to  the  clearness  and  force  of 
their  style.  There  is  a  difference  even  among 
the  chapters  of  the  same  epistle  in  regard 
to  the  beauty  of  thought  and  language.  In 
the  First  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  the  thir 
teenth  chapter  is  poetic,  and  the  fourteenth 
is  prosaic.  Why  should  there  not  be  a  dif 
ference  in  poetic  quality  among  the  Psalms  ? 
There  is  a  difference.  The  honest  reader 
will  recognize  it.  It  will  be  no  harm  to  him 
if  he  should  have  his  favourites  among  the 
poems  which  have  been  gathered  from  many 
centuries  into  this  great  collection. 

There  are  some,  like  the  Twenty-seventh, 
[  84] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

the  Forty-second,  the  Forty-sixth,  the 
Fifty-first,  the  Sixty-third,  the  Ninety-first- 
the  Ninety-sixth,  the  One  Hundred  and 
Third,  the  One  Hundred  and  Seventh,  the 
One  Hundred  and  Thirty-ninth,  which  are 
among  the  noblest  poems  of  the  world. 
Others  move  on  a  lower  level,  and  show 
the  traces  of  effort  and  constraint.  There 
are  also  manifest  alterations  and  interpola 
tions,  which  are  not  always  improvements. 
Dr.  Perowne,  who  is  one  of  the  wisest  and 
most  conservative  of  modern  commenta 
tors,  says,  "Many  of  the  Psalms  have  not 
come  down  to  us  in  their  original  form,"* 
and  refers  to  the  alterations  which  the  Sev 
entieth  makes  in  the  Fortieth,  and  the 
Fifty-third  in  the  Fourteenth.  The  last  two 
verses  of  the  Fifty-first  were  evidently 
added  by  a  later  hand.  The  whole  book,  in 
its  present  form,  shows  the  marks  of  its 
compilation  and  use  as  the  Hymn-Book  of 
the  Jewish  people.  Not  only  in  the  titles, 
but  also  in  the  text,  we  can  discern  the  work 
of  the  compiler,  critic,  and  adapter,  some 
times  wise,  but  occasionally  otherwise. 

*  The  Book  of  Psalms.  2  volumes,  London,  1883.  Volume  i.  page  82. 

[85] 


IV 

THE  most  essential  thing  in  the  ap 
preciation  of  the  poetry  of  the  Psalms 
is  the  recognition  of  the  three  great  spirit 
ual  qualities  which  distinguish  it,  and  are 
the  evidences,  not  only  of  genius,  but  also 
of  inspiration. 

The  first  of  these  is  the  deep  and  genuine 
love  of  nature.  The  psalmists  delight  in  the 
vision  of  the  world,  and  their  joy  quickens 
their  senses  to  read  alike  the  larger  hiero 
glyphs  of  glory  written  in  the  stars  and  the 
delicate  tracings  of  transient  beauty  on  leaf 
and  flower;  to  hear  alike  the  mighty  roar 
ing  of  the  sea  and  the  soft  sweet  laughter 
of  the  rustling  cornfields.  But  in  all  these 
they  see  and  hear  the  handwriting  and  the 
voice  of  God.  It  is  His  presence  that  makes 
the  world  sublime  and  beautiful.  The  di 
rect,  piercing,  elevating  sense  of  this  pre 
sence  simplifies,  enlarges,  and  ennobles  their 
style,  and  makes  it  different  from  other 
nature-poetry.  They  never  lose  themselves, 
like  Theocritus  and  Wordsworth  and  Shel- 

[86] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

ley  and  Tennyson,  in  the  contemplation 
and  description  of  natural  beauty.  They  see 
it,  but  they  always  see  beyond  it.  Compare, 
for  example,  a  modern  versified  translation 
with  the  psalm  itself: 

The  spacious  firmament  on  high, 
With  all  the  blue  ethereal  sky 
And  spangled  heavens,  a  shining  frame, 
Their  Great  Original  proclaim.* 

Addison's  descriptive  epithets  betray  a  con 
scious  effort  to  make  a  splendid  picture.  But 
the  psalmist  felt  no  need  of  this;  a  larger 
impulse  lifted  him  at  once  into  "the  grand 
style:" 

The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God ; 
And  the  firmament  showeth  his  handiwork. 

The  second  quality  of  the  poetry  of  the 
Psalms  is  their  passionate  sense  of  the 
beauty  of  holiness.  Keats  was  undoubtedly 
right  in  his  suggestion  that  the  poet  must 
always  see  truth  in  the  form  of  beauty. 
Otherwise  he  may  be  a  philosopher,  or  a 
critic,  or  a  moralist,  but  he  is  not  a  true 
poet.  But  we  must  go  on  from  this  stand- 

*  Joteph  Addison,  1712. 

[87] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

point  to  the  Platonic  doctrine  that  the  high 
est  form  of  beauty  is  spiritual  and  ethical. 
It  is  the  harmony  of  the  soul  with  the  eter 
nal  music  of  the  Good.  And  the  highest 
poets  are  those  who,  like  the  psalmists,  are 
most  ardently  enamoured  of  righteousness. 
This  fills  their  songs  with  sweetness  and 
fire  incomparable  and  immortal: 

The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  clean,  enduring  for 
ever: 

The  judgments  of  the  Lord  are  true  and  right 
eous  altogether. 

More  to  be  desired  are  they  than  gold,  yea, 
than  much  fine  gold: 

Sweeter  also  than  honey  and  the  honeycomb. 

The  third  quality  of  the  poetry  of  the  Psalms 
is  their  intense  joy  in  God.  No  lover  ever 
poured  out  the  longings  of  his  heart  to 
wards  his  mistress  more  eagerly  than  David 
voiced  his  desire  and  thirst  for  God.  No 
conqueror  ever  sang  of  victory  more  exul 
tantly  than  David  rejoiced  in  the  Lord,  who 
was  his  light  and  his  salvation,  the  strength 
of  his  life  and  his  portion  forever. 

After  all,  the  true  mission  of  poetry  is  to 

[88  ] 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  PSALMS 

increase  joy.  It  must,  indeed,  be  sensitive 
to  sorrow  and  acquainted  with  grief.  But  it 
has  wings  given  to  it  in  order  that  it  may 
bear  us  up  into  the  ether  of  gladness. 

There  is  no  perfect  joy  without  love. 
Therefore  love-poetry  is  the  best.  But  the 
highest  of  all  love-poetry  is  that  which  cele 
brates,  with  the  Psalms, 

that  Love  which  is  and  was 
My  Father  and  my  Brother  and  my  God. 


[89] 


JOY  AND  POWER 


JOY  AND  POWER 

If  ye  know  these  things,  happy  are  ye  if  ye  do  them. 
St.  John  xiii.  1 7. 

I  ASK  you  to  think  for  a  little  while  a- 
bout  the  religion  of  Christ  in  its  relation 
to  happiness. 

This  is  only  one  point  in  the  circle  of 
truth  at  the  centre  of  which  Jesus  stands. 
But  it  is  an  important  point  because  it  marks 
one  of  the  lines  of  power  which  radiate  from 
Him.  To  look  at  it  clearly  and  steadily  is 
not  to  disregard  other  truths.  The  mariner 
takes  the  whole  heavens  of  astronomy  for 
granted  while  he  shapes  his  course  by  a 
single  star. 

In  the  wish  for  happiness  all  men  are 
strangely  alike.  In  their  explanations  of  it 
and  in  their  ways  of  seeking  it  they  are  sin 
gularly  different.  Shall  we  think  of  this  wish 
as  right,  or  wrong;  as  a  true  star,  or  a  will- 
o'-the-wisp?  If  itis  righttowishto  be  happy, 
what  are  the  conditions  on  which  the  ful 
filment  of  this  wish  depends?  These  are  the 
two  questions  with  which  I  would  come  to 

[93] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

Christ,  seeking  instruction  and  guidance. 

i.  The  desire  of  happiness,  beyond  all 
doubt,  is  a  natural  desire.  It  is  the  law  of 
life  itself  that  every  being  seeks  and  strives 
toward  the  perfection  of  its  kind,  the  real 
ization  of  its  own  specific  ideal  in  form  and 
function,  and  a  true  harmony  with  its  en 
vironment.  Every  drop  of  sap  in  the  tree 
flows  toward  foliage  and  fruit.  Every  drop 
of  blood  in  the  bird  beats  toward  flight  and 
song.  In  a  conscious  being  this  movement 
toward  perfection  must  take  a  conscious 
form.  This  conscious  form  is  happiness, — 
the  satisfaction  of  the  vital  impulse, —  the 
rhythm  of  the  inward  life, —  the  melody  of 
a  heart  that  has  found  its  keynote.  To  say 
that  all  men  long  for  this  is  simply  to  con 
fess  that  all  men  are  human,  and  that  their 
thoughts  and  feelings  are  an  essential  part 
of  their  life.  Virtue  means  a  completed  man 
hood.  The  joyful  welfare  of  the  soul  be 
longs  to  the  fulness  of  that  ideal.  Holiness 
is  wholeness.  In  striving  to  realize  the  true 
aim  of  our  being,  we  find  the  wish  for  hap 
piness  implanted  in  the  very  heart  of  our 
effort. 

[94] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

Now  what  does  Christ  say  in  regard  to 
this  natural  human  wish?  Does  He  say  that 
it  is  an  illusion?  Does  He  condemn  and 
deny  it?  Would  He  have  accepted  Goethe's 
definition:  "religion  is  renunciation"? 

Surely  such  a  notion  is  far  from  the  spirit 
of  Jesus.  There  is  nothing  of  the  hardness 
of  Stoicism,  the  coldness  of  Buddhism,  in 
Christ's  gospel.  It  is  humane,  sympathetic, 
consoling.  Unrest  and  weariness,  the  fever 
of  passion  and  the  chill  of  despair,  soul- 
solitude  and  heart-trouble,  are  the  very 
things  that  He  comes  to  cure.  He  begins  His 
great  discourse  with  a  series  of  beatitudes. 
"Blessed"  is  the  word.  "Happy"  is  the 
meaning.  Nine  times  He  rings  the  changes 
on  that  word,  like  a  silver  bell  sounding 
from  His  fair  temple  on  the  mountain-side, 
calling  all  who  long  for  happiness  to  come 
to  Him  and  find  rest  for  their  souls. 

Christ  never  asks  us  to  give  up  merely 
for  the  sake  of  giving  up,  but  always  in  order 
to  win  something  better.  He  comes  not  to 
destroy,  but  to  fulfil, — to  fill  full, —  to  re 
plenish  life  with  true,  inward,  lasting  riches. 
His  gospel  is  a  message  of  satisfaction,  of  at- 
[95  ] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

tainment,  of  felicity.  Its  voice  is  not  a  sigh, 
but  a  song.  Its  final  word  is  a  benediction, 
a. good-saying.  "These  things  have  I  spoken 
unto  you,  that  my  joy  might  remain  in  you, 
and  that  your  joy  might  be  full." 

If  we  accept  His  teaching  we  must  be 
lieve  that  men  are  not  wrong  in  wishing  for 
happiness,  but  wrong  in  their  way  of  seek 
ing  it.  Earthly  happiness, — pleasure  that  be 
longs  to  the  senses  and  perishes  with  them, 
— earthly  happiness  is  a  dream  and  a  de 
lusion.  But  happiness  on  earth, —  spiritual  joy 
and  peace,  blossoming  here,  fruiting  here 
after, — immortal  happiness,  is  the  keynote 
of  life  in  Christ. 

And  if  we  come  to  Him,  He  tells  us  four 
great  secrets  in  regard  to  it. 

i.  It  is  inward,  and  not  outward;  and  so 
it  does  not  depend  on  what  we  have,  but 
on  what  we  are. 

ii.  It  cannot  be  found  by  direct  seeking, 
but  by  setting  our  faces  toward  the  things 
from  which  it  flows;  and  so  we  must  climb 
the  mount  if  we  would  see  the  vision,  we 
must  tune  the  instrument  if  we  would  hear 
the  music. 

[96] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

iii.  It  is  not  solitary,  but  social;  and  so 
we  can  never  have  it  without  sharing  it  with 
others. 

iv.  It  is  the  result  of  God's  will  for  us, 
and  not  of  our  will  for  ourselves ;  and  so 
we  can  only  find  it  by  giving  our  lives  up, 
in  submission  and  obedience,  to  the  con 
trol  of  God. 

For  this  is  peace, — to  lose  the  lonely  note 
Of  self  in  love's  celestial  ordered  strain: 
And  this  is  joy, — to  find  one's  self  again 
In  Him  whose  harmonies  forever  float 
Through  all  the  spheres  of  song,  below, 

above, — 
For  God  is  music,  even  as  God  is  love. 

This  is  the  divine  doctrine  of  happiness  as 
Christtaught  it  by  His  life  and  with  His  lips. 
If  we  want  to  put  it  into  a  single  phrase, 
I  know  not  where  we  shall  find  a  more  per 
fect  utterance  than  in  the  words  which  have 
been  taught  us  in  childhood, — words  so 
strong,  so  noble,  so  cheerful,  that  they  sum 
mon  the  heart  of  manhood  like  marching- 
music:  "Man's  chief  end  is  to  glorify  God 
and  enjoy  Him  forever." 

[97] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

Let  us  accept  without  reserve  this  teach 
ing  of  our  Divine  Lord  and  Master  in  re 
gard  to  the  possibility  and  the  duty  of  hap 
piness.  It  is  an  essential  element  of  His 
gospel.  The  atmosphere  of  the  New  Tes 
tament  is  not  gloom,  but  gladness;  not  de 
spondency,  but  hope.  The  man  who  is  not 
glad  to  be  a  Christian  is  not  the  right  kind 
of  a  Christian. 

The  first  thing  that  commended  the 
Church  of  Jesus  to  the  weary  and  disheart 
ened  world  in  the  early  years  of  her  tri 
umph  was  her  power  to  make  her  children 
happy, —  happy  in  the  midst  of  afflictions, 
happy  in  the  release  from  the  burden  of 
guilt,  happy  in  the  sense  of  Divine  Father 
hood  and  human  brotherhood,  happy  in 
Christ's  victory  over  sin  and  death,  happy 
in  the  assurance  of  an  endless  life.  At  mid 
night  in  the  prison,  Paul  and  Silas  sang 
praises,  and  the  prisoners  heard  them.  The 
lateral  force  of  joy, —  that  was  the  power  of 
the  Church. 

"Poor  world,"  she  cried,  "so  deep  accurst, 
Thou  runn'st  from  pole  to  pole 

[98] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

To  seek  a  draught  to  slake  thy  thirst, — 
Go  seek  it  in  thy  soul." 

Tears  washed  the  trouble  from  her  face! 

She  changed  into  a  child! 
'Mid  weeds  and  wrecks  she  stood, — a  place 

Of  ruin, —  but  she  smiled! 

Much  has  the  Church  lost  of  that  pris 
tine  and  powerful  joy.  The  furnace  of  civ 
ilization  has  withered  and  hardened  her. 
She  has  become  anxious  and  troubled  about 
many  things.  She  has  sought  earthly  hon 
ours,  earthly  powers.  Richer  she  is  than  ever 
before,  and  probably  better  organized,  and 
perhaps  more  intelligent,  more  learned, — 
but  not  more  happy.  The  one  note  that  is 
most  often  missing  in  Christian  life,  in  Chris 
tian  service,  is  the  note  of  spontaneous  joy. 
Christians  are  not  as  much  calmer,  stead 
ier,  stronger,  and  more  cheerful  than  other 
people  as  they  ought  to  be.  Some  Chris 
tians  are  among  the  most  depressing  and 
worryful  people  in  the  world, — the  most 
difficult  to  live  with.  And  some,  indeed,  have 
adopted  a  theory  of  spiritual  ethics  which 
puts  a  special  value  upon  unhappiness.The 
[99] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

dark,  morbid  spirit  which  mistrusts  every 
joyful  feeling,  and  depreciates  every  cheer 
ful  virtue,  and  looks  askance  upon  every 
happy  life  as  if  there  must  be  something 
wrong  about  it,  is  a  departure  from  the 
beauty  of  Christ's  teaching  to  follow  the 
dark-browed  philosophy  of  the  Orient. 

The  religion  of  Jesus  tells  us  that  cheer 
ful  piety  is  the  best  piety.  There  is  some 
thing  finer  than  to  do  right  against  incli 
nation,  and  that  is  to  have  an  inclination  to 
do  right.  There  is  something  nobler  than 
reluctant  obedience,  and  that  is  joyful  obe 
dience.  The  rank  of  virtue  is  not  measured 
by  its  disagreeableness,  but  by  its  sweetness 
to  the  heart  that  loves  it.  The  real  test  of 
character  is  joy.  For  what  you  rejoice  in, 
that  you  love.  And  what  you  love,  that  you 
are  like. 

I  confess  frankly  that  I  have  no  admira 
tion  for  the  phrase  "disinterested  benevo 
lence,"  to  describe  the  mainspring  of  Chris 
tian  morals.  I  do  not  find  it  in  the  New  Tes 
tament, — neither  the  words  nor  the  thing. 
Interested  benevolence  is  what  I  find  there. 
To  do  good  to  others  is  to  make  life  inter- 


JOY  AND  POWER 

esting  and  find  peace  for  our  own  souls.  To 
glorify  God  is  to  enjoy  Him.  That  was  the 
spirit  of  the  first  Christians.  Was  not  St. 
Paul  a  happier  man  than  Herod?  Did  not 
St.  Peter  have  more  joy  of  his  life  than 
Nero?  It  is  said  of  the  first  disciples  that 
they  "  did  eat  their  meat  with  gladness  and 
singleness  of  heart."  Not  till  that  pristine 
gladness  of  life  returns  will  the  Church  re 
gain  her  early  charm  for  the  souls  of  men. 
Every  great  revival  of  Christian  power — 
like  those  which  came  in  the  times  of  St. 
Francis  of  Assisi  and  of  John  Wesley — 
has  been  marked  and  heralded  by  a  revival 
of  Christian  joy. 

If  we  want  the  Church  to  be  mighty  in 
power  to  win  men,  to  be  a  source  of  light 
in  the  darkness,  a  fountain  of  life  in  the 
wilderness,  we  must  remember  and  renew, 
in  the  spirit  of  Christ,  the  relation  of  re 
ligion  to  human  happiness. 

ii.  What,  then,  are  the  conditions  upon 
which  true  happiness  depends?  Christ  tells 
us  in  the  text:  If  ye  know  these  things ,  happy 
are  ye  if  ye  do  them. 

This  is  the  blessing  with  a  double  //.  "If 


JOY  AND  POWER 

ye  know," — this  is  the  knowledge  which 
Christ  gives  to  faith.  "If  ye  do," — this  is 
the  obedience  which  faith  gives  to  Christ. 
Knowing  and  Doing, — these  are  the  twin 
pillars,  Jachin  and  Boaz,on  which  the  house 
of  happiness  is  built.  The  harmony  of  faith 
and  life, — this  is  the  secret  of  inward  joy 
and  power. 

You  remember  when  these  words  were 
spoken.  Christ  had  knelt  to  wash  the  dis 
ciples'  feet.  Peter,  in  penitence  and  self- 
reproach,  had  hesitated  to  permit  this  lowly 
service  of  Divine  love.  But  Christ  answered 
by  revealing  the  meaning  of  His  act  as  a 
symbol  of  the  cleansing  of  the  soul  from  sin. 
He  reminded  the  disciples  of  what  they 
knew  by  faith, — that  He  was  their  Saviour 
and  their  Lord.  By  deed  and  by  word  He 
called  up  before  them  the  great  spiritual 
truths  which  had  given  new  meaning  to  their 
life.  He  summoned  them  to  live  according 
to  their  knowledge,  to  act  upon  the  truth 
which  they  believed. 

I  am  sure  that  His  words  sweep  out  be 
yond  that  quiet  upper  room,  beyond  that 
beautiful  incident,  to  embrace  the  whole 
I02 


JOY  AND  POWER 

spiritual  life.  I  am  sure  that  He  is  revealing 
to  us  the  secret  of  happy  living  which  lies 
at  the  very  heart  of  His  gospel  when  He 
says :  If  ye  know  these  things,  happy  are  ye  if 
ye  do  them. 

i.  "If  ye  know," — there  is,  then,  a  cer 
tain  kind  of  knowledge  without  which  we 
can  not  be  happy.  There  are  questions  aris 
ing  in  human  nature  which  demand  an  an 
swer.  If  it  is  denied  we  can  not  help  being 
disappointed,  restless,  and  sad.  This  is  the 
price  we  have  to  pay  for  being  conscious, 
rational  creatures.  If  we  were  mere  plants 
or  animals  we  might  go  on  living  through 
our  appointed  years  in  complete  indiffer 
ence  to  the  origin  and  meaning  of  our  ex 
istence.  But  within  us,  as  human  beings, 
there  is  something  that  cries  out  and  rebels 
against  such  a  blind  life.  Man  is  born  to 
ask  what  things  mean.  He  is  possessed  with 
the  idea  that  there  is  a  significance  in  the 
world  beyond  that  which  meets  his  senses. 

John  Fiske  has  brought  out  this  fact  very 
clearly  in  his  last  book, "  Through  Nature  to 
God."  He  shows  that  "in  the  morning  twi 
light  of  existence  the  Human  Soul  vaguely 
[  I03  ] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

reached  forth  toward  something  akin  to  it 
self,  not  in  the  realm  of  fleeting  phenomena, 
but  in  the  Eternal  Presence  beyond."  He 
argues  by  the  analogy  of  evolution,  which 
always  presupposes  a  real  relation  between 
the  life  and  the  environment  to  which  it 
adjusts  itself,  that  this  forth-reaching  and 
unfolding  of  the  soul  implies  the  everlast 
ing  reality  of  religion. 

The  argument  is  good.  But  the  point 
which  concerns  us  now  is  simply  this:  The 
forth-reaching,  questioning  soul  can  never 
be  satisfied  if  it  touches  only  a  dead  wall  in 
the  darkness,  if  its  seeking  meets  with  the 
reply,  "You  do  not  know,  and  you  never 
can  know,  and  you  must  not  try  to  know." 
This  is  agnosticism.  It  is  only  another  way 
of  spelling  unhappiness. 

"Since  Christianity  is  not  true,"  wrote 
Ernest  Renan,  "nothing  interests  me,  or 
appears  worthy  my  attention."  That  is  the 
logical  result  of  losing  the  knowledge  of 
spiritual  things, — a  life  without  real  inter 
est,  without  deep  worth, — a  life  with  a  bro 
ken  spring. 

But  suppose  Renan  is  mistaken.  Sup- 
[  I04  ] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

pose  Christianity  is  true.  Then  the  first 
thing  that  makes  it  precious  is  that  it  an 
swers  our  questions,  and  tells  us  the  things 
that  we  must  know  in  order  to  be  happy. 
Christianity  is  a  revealing  religion,  a 
teaching  religion,  a  religion  which  conveys 
to  the  inquiring  spirit  certain  great  and  posi 
tive  solutions  of  the  problems  of  life.  It  is 
not  silent,  nor  ambiguous,  nor  incompre 
hensible  in  its  utterance.  It  replies  to  our 
questions  with  a  knowledge  which,  though 
limited,  is  definite  and  sufficient.  It  tells 
us  that  this  "order  of  nature,  which  con 
stitutes  the  world's  experience,  is  only  one 
portion  of  the  total  universe."  That  the 
ruler  of  both  worlds,  seen  and  unseen,  is 
God,  a  Spirit,  and  the  Father  of  our  spirits. 
That  He  is  not  distant  from  us  nor  indif 
ferent  to  us,  but  that  He  has  given  His 
eternal  Son  Jesus  Christ  to  be  our  Saviour. 
That  His  Spirit  is  ever  present  with  us  to 
help  us  in  our  conflicts  with  evil,  in  our  ef 
forts  toward  goodness.  That  He  is  making 
all  things  work  together  for  good  to  those 
that  love  Him.  That  through  the  sacrifice 
of  Christ  every  one  who  will  may  obtain  the 
[  105  ] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

forgiveness  of  sins  and  everlasting  peace. 
That  through  the  resurrection  of  Christ  all 
who  love  H  im  and  their  fellow-men  shall  ob 
tain  the  vi&ory  over  death  and  live  forever. 

Now  these  are  doctrines.  And  it  is  just 
because  Christianity  contains  such  doc 
trines  that  it  satisfies  the  need  of  man. 

"The  first  and  the  most  essential  condi 
tion  of  true  happiness,"  writes  Professor 
Carl  Hilty,  the  eminent  Swiss  jurist,  "is  a 
firm  faith  in  the  moral  order  of  the  world. 
What  is  the  happy  life?  It  is  a  life  of  con 
scious  harmony  with  this  Divine  order  of 
the  world,  a  sense,  that  is  to  say,  of  God's 
companionship.  And  wherein  is  the  pro- 
foundest  unhappiness?  It  is  in  the  sense  of 
remoteness  from  God,  issuing  into  incur 
able  restlessness  of  heart,  and  finally  into 
incapacity  to  make  one's  life  fruitful  or  ef 
fective." 

What  shall  we  say,  then,  of  the  proposal 
to  adapt  Christianity  to  the  needs  of  the 
world  to-day  by  eliminating  or  ignoring  its 
characteristic  doctrines?  You  might  as  well 
propose  to  fit  a  ship  for  service  by  taking 
out  its  compass  and  its  charts  and  cutting 
[  106  ] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

off  its  rudder.  Make  Christianity  silent  in 
regard  to  these  great  questions  of  spiritual 
existence,  and  you  destroy  its  power  to  sat 
isfy  the  heart. 

What  would  the  life  of  Christ  mean  if 
these  deep  truths  on  which  He  rested  and 
from  which  He  drew  His  strength,  were 
uncertain  or  illusory?  It  would  be  the  most 
pathetic,  mournful,  heart-breaking  of  all 
phantoms. 

What  consoling,  cheering  power  would 
be  left  in  the  words  of  Jesus  if  His  doc 
trine  were  blotted  out  and  His  precept  left 
to  stand  alone?  Try  the  experiment,  if  it 
may  be  done  without  irreverence:  read  His 
familiar  discourses  in  the  shadow  of  agnos 
ticism. 

*  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,  for  theirs 
is  a  hopeless  poverty.  Blessed  are  the  pure 
in  heart,  for  they  know  not  whether  they 
shall  see  God.  Blessed  are  ye  when  men 
shall  revile  you  and  persecute  you,  for  ye 
have  no  promise  of  a  heavenly  reward. 

f  Enter  into  thy  closet,  and  when  thou 
hast  shut  the  door,  keep  silence,  for  thou 
canst  not  tell  whether  there  is  One  to  hear 
[  107  ] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

thy  voice  in  secret.  Take  no  thought  for 
the  morrow,  for  thou  knowest  not  whether 
there  is  a  Father  who  careth  for  thee. 

'God  is  unknown,  and  they  that  wor 
ship  Him  must  worship  Him  in  ignorance 
and  doubt.  No  man  hath  ascended  up  into 
heaven,  neither  hath  any  man  come  down 
from  heaven,  for  the  Son  of  Man  hath 
never  been  in  heaven.  That  which  is  born 
of  the  flesh  is  flesh,  and  that  which  is  born 
of  the  spirit  is  a  dream.  Man  shall  not  live 
by  bread  alone,  neither  shall  he  listen  for 
any  word  from  the  mouth  of  God.  I  pro 
ceeded  forth  and  came  from  darkness,  I 
came  of  myself,  I  know  not  who  sent  me. 
My  sheep  hear  my  voice,  and  I  know  them, 
and  they  follow  me,  but  I  can  not  give  unto 
them  eternal  life,  for  they  shall  perish  and 
death  shall  pluck  them  out  of  my  hand. 
Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled;  ye  believe 
not  in  God,  ye  need  not  believe  in  me. 
Keep  my  commandments,  and  I  will  not 
pray  for  you,  and  ye  shall  abide  without  a 
Comforter.  In  the  world  ye  shall  have  tri 
bulation,  but  be  of  good  cheer,  for  ye  know 
not  whether  there  is  a  world  to  come.  I 
[  108  ] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

came  forth  from  darkness  into  the  world, 
and  again  I  leave  the  world  and  return  to 
darkness.  Peace  I  leave  with  you.  If  ye 
loved  me  ye  would  rejoice  because  I  said, 
I  go  into  darkness,  and  where  I  am  there 
shall  ye  be  also.' 

Is  it  conceivable  that  any  suffering,  sor 
rowing  human  soul  should  be  comforted 
and  strengthened  by  such  a  message  as  this? 
Could  it  possibly  be  called  a  gospel,  glad 
tidings  of  great  joy  to  all  people? 

And  yet  what  has  been  omitted  here  from 
the  words  of  Christ?  Nothing  but  what  men 
call  doctrines:  the  personality  of  God,  the 
divinity  of  Christ,  the  Atonement,  the  pre 
sence  and  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  the 
sovereignty  of  the  Heavenly  Father,  the 
truth  of  the  divine  revelation,  the  reality 
of  the  heavenly  world,  the  assurance  of  im 
mortal  life.  But  it  is  just  from  these  doc 
trines  that  the  teaching  of  Jesus  draws  its 
peculiar  power  to  comfort  and  inspire.  They 
are  the  rays  of  light  which  disperse  the 
gloom  of  uncertainty.  They  are  the  tones 
of  celestial  music  which  fill  the  heart  of  man 
with  good  cheer. 

[  I09  ] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

Let  us  never  imagine  that  we  can 
strengthen  Christianity  by  leaving  out  the 
great  doctrines  which  have  given  it  life  and 
power.  Faith  is  not  a  mere  matter  of  feel 
ing.  It  is  the  acceptance  of  truth,  positive, 
unchanging,  revealed  truth,  in  regard  to 
God  and  the  world,  Christ  and  the  soul, 
duty  and  immortality.  The  first  appeal  to 
faith  lies  in  the  clearness  and  vividness,  the 
simplicity  and  joy,  with  which  this  truth  is 
presented. 

There  has  not  been  too  much  preaching 
of  doctrine  in  this  age — there  has  been  too 
little.  And  what  there  has  been,  has  been 
too  dull  and  cold  and  formal,  too  vague 
and  misty,  too  wavering  and  uncertain. 

What  the  world  wants  and  waits  for  to 
day  is  a  strong,  true,  vital  preaching  of  doc 
trine.  The  Church  must  realize  anew  the 
precious  value  of  the  truths  which  Christ 
has  given  her.  She  must  not  conceal  them 
or  cast  them  away;  she  must  bring  them 
out  into  the  light,  press  them  home  upon 
the  minds  and  hearts  of  men.  She  must  sim 
plify  her  statement  of  them,  so  that  men 
can  understand  what  they  mean.  She  must 


JOY  AND  POWER 

not  be  content  with  repeating  them  in  the 
language  of  past  centuries.  She  must  trans 
late  them  into  the  language  of  to-day.  First 
century  texts  will  never  wear  out  because 
they  are  inspired.  But  seventeenth  century 
sermons  grow  obsolete  because  they  are 
not  inspired.  Texts  from  the  Word  of  God, 
preaching  in  the  words  of  living  men, — 
that  is  what  we  need. 

We  must  think  about  the  doctrines  of 
Christianity 'more  earnestly  and  profoundly. 
We  must  renew  our  Christian  evidences, 
as  an  army  fits  itself  with  new  weapons. 
The  old-fashioned  form  of  the  "  argument 
from  design  in  nature"  has  gone  out  with 
the  old-fashioned  books  of  science  which  it 
used.  But  there  is  a  new  and  more  wonder 
ful  proof  of  God's  presence  in  the  world, — 
the  argument  from  moral  ends  in  evolution. 
Every  real  advance  of  science  makes  the 
intelligent  order  of  the  universe  more  sub 
limely  clear.  Every  century  of  human  ex 
perience  confirms  the  Divine  claims  and 
adds  to  the  Divine  triumphs  of  Jesus  Christ. 
Social  progress  has  followed  to  a  hair's 
breadth  the  lines  of  His  gospel;  and  He 


JOY  AND  POWER 

lays  His  hand  to-day  with  heavenly  wis 
dom  on  the  social  wants  that  still  trouble 
us,  "the  social  lies  that  warp  us  from  the 
living  truth."  Christ's  view  of  life  and  the 
world  is  as  full  of  sweet  reasonableness  now 
as  it  was  in  the  first  century.  Every  moral 
step  that  man  has  taken  upward  has  brought 
a  wider,  clearer  vision  of  his  need  of  such 
a  religion  as  that  which  Christ  teaches. 

Let  not  the  Church  falter  and  blush  for 
her  doctrines.  Let  her  not  turn  and  go  down 
the  hill  of  knowledge  to  defend  her  posi 
tion  in  the  valley  of  ignorance.  Let  her  go 
up  the  hill,  welcoming  every  wider  outlook, 
rejoicing  in  every  new  discovery,  gathering 
fresh  evidences  of  the  truths  which  man 
must  believe  concerning  God  and  new  mo 
tives  to  the  duties  which  God  requires  of 
man. 

But  in  doing  this  we  must  put  the  em 
phasis  of  our  preaching  to-day  where  it  be 
longs,  where  Christ  puts  it,  on  the  doctrines 
that  are  most  important  to  human  life  and 
happiness.  We  can  afford  to  let  the  fine 
metaphysical  distinctions  of  theology  rest  for 
a  while,  and  throw  all  our  force  on  the  cen- 


JOY  AND  POWER 

tral,  fundamental  truths  which  give  stead 
iness  and  courage  and  cheer  to  the  heart 
of  man.  I  will  not  admit  that  it  makes  no 
difference  to  a  man  of  this  age  whether  or 
not  he  believes  in  the  personal  God  and 
the  Divine  Christ.  If  he  really  believes,  it 
makes  all  the  difference  between  spiritual 
strength  and  spiritual  weakness,  between 
optimism  and  pessimism.  I  will  not  admit 
that  it  makes  no  difference  to  a  learned  scho 
lar  or  a  simple  labourer  to-day  whether  he 
accepts  or  ignores  the  doctrine  of  the  atone 
ment,  the  doctrine  of  personal  immortality. 
If  he  knows  that  Christ  died  for  him,  that 
there  is  a  future  beyond  the  grave,  it  makes 
all  the  difference  between  despair  and  hope, 
between  misery  and  consolation,  between 
the  helpless  frailty  of  a  being  that  is  puffed 
out  like  a  candle,  and  the  joyful  power  of 
an  endless  life. 

My  brethren,  we  must  work  and  pray 
for  a  true  revival  of  Christian  doctrine  in 
our  age.  We  must  deepen  our  own  hold 
upon  the  truths  which  Christ  has  taught 
us.  We  must  preach  them  more  simply, 
more  confidently,  more  reasonably,  more 
[ 


JOY  AND  POWER 

earnestly.  We  must  draw  from  them  the  hap 
piness  and  the  help,  the  comfort  and  the  in 
spiration,  that  they  have  to  give  to  the  souls 
of  men.  But  most  of  all,  we  must  keep  them 
in  close  and  living  touch  with  the  problems 
of  daily  duty  and  experience.  For  no  doc 
trine,  however  high,  however  true,  can  make 
men  happy  until  it  is  translated  into  life. 

ii.  Here  is  the  second  //,  on  which  the 
power  of  religion  to  confer  happiness  de 
pends  :  If  ye  know,  happy  are  ye  if  ye  do 
these  things. 

Between  the  knowing  and  the  doing  there 
is  a  deep  gulf.  Into  that  abyss  the  happi 
ness  of  many  a  man  slips,  and  is  lost.  There 
is  no  peace,  no  real  and  lasting  felicity,  for 
a  human  life  until  the  gulf  is  closed,  and 
the  continent  of  conduct  meets  the  conti 
nent  of  creed,  edge  to  edge,  lip  to  lip,  firmly 
joined  forever. 

It  is  not  a  blessing  to  know  the  things 
that  Christ  teaches,  and  then  go  on  living 
as  if  they  were  false  or  doubtful.  It  is  a 
trouble,  a  torment,  a  secret  misery.  To  know 
that  God  is  our  Father,  and  yet  to  with 
hold  our  love  and  service  from  Him;  to 
[  "4] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

know  that  Christ  died  for  us,  and  yet  to 
deny  Him  and  refuse  to  follow  Him;  to 
know  that  there  is  an  immortal  life,  and  yet 
to  waste  and  lose  our  souls  in  the  pursuit 
of  sensual  pleasure  and  such  small  portion 
of  the  world  as  we  may  hope  to  gain, — 
surely  that  is  the  deepest  of  all  unhappi- 
ness. 

But  the  right  kind  of  knowing  carries  in 
its  heart  the  doing  of  the  truth.  And  the 
right  kind  of  doing  leads  to  a  fuller  and  hap 
pier  knowing.  "If  any  man  will  do  God's 
will,"  declares  Christ,  "he  shall  know  of 
the  doctrine." 

Let  a  man  take  the  truth  of  the  Divine 
Fatherhood  and  begin  to  conform  his  life 
to  its  meaning.  Let  him  give  up  his  anx 
ious  worryings,  his  murmurings,  his  com 
plainings,  and  trust  himself  completely  to 
his  Father's  care.  Let  him  do  his  work  from 
day  to  day  as  well  as  he  can  and  leave  the 
results  to  God.  Let  him  come  to  his  Father 
every  day  and  confess  his  faults  and  ask  for 
help  and  guidance.  Let  him  try  to  obey  and 
please  God  for  love's  sake.  Let  him  take 
refuge  from  the  trials  and  confusions  and 
[  "5  ] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

misunderstandings  of  the  world,  from  the 
wrath  of  men  and  the  strife  of  tongues,  in 
the  secret  of  his  Father's  presence.  Surely 
if  he  learns  the  truth  thus,  by  doing  it,  he 
will  find  happiness. 

Or  take  the  truth  of  immortality.  Let  a 
man  live  now  in  the  light  of  the  knowledge 
that  he  is  to  live  forever.  How  it  will  deepen 
and  strengthen  the  meaning  of  his  exis 
tence,  lift  him  above  petty  cares  and  am 
bitions,  and  make  the  things  that  are  worth 
while  precious  to  his  heart  !  Let  him  really 
set  his  affeclions  on  the  spiritual  side  of  life, 
let  him  endure  afflictions  patiently  because 
he  knows  that  they  are  but  for  a  moment, 
let  him  think  more  of  the  soul  than  of  the 
body,  let  him  do  good  to  his  fellow-men 
in  order  to  make  them  sharers  of  his  immor 
tal  hope,  let  him  purify  his  love  and  friend 
ship  that  they  may  be  fit  for  the  heavenly 
life.  Surely  the  man  who  does  these  things 
will  be  happy.  It  will  be  with  him  as  with 
Lazarus,  in  Robert  Browning's  poem,  "The 
Epistle  of  Karshish."  Others  will  look  at 
him  with  wonder  and  say: 


[ 


JOY  AND  POWER 
Whence  has  the  man  the  balm  that  brightens 

all? 
This  grown  man  eyes  the  world  now  like  a 

child. 

Yes,  my  brethren,  this  is  the  sure  result  of 
following  out  the  doctrines  of  Christ  in  ac 
tion,  of  living  the  truths  that  He  teaches, 
— a  simple  life,  a  childlike  life,  a  happy 
life.  And  this  also  the  Church  needs  to-day, 
as  well  as  a  true  revival  of  doctrine. 

A  revival  of  simplicity,  a  revival  of  sin 
cerity,  a  revival  of  work:  this  will  restore 
unto  us  the  joy  of  salvation.  And  with  the 
joy  of  salvation  will  come  a  renewal  and 
expansion  of  power. 

The  inconsistency  of  Christians  is  the 
stronghold  of  unbelief.  The  lack  of  vital 
joy  in  the  Church  is  the  chief  cause  of  in 
difference  in  the  world.  The  feeble  energy, 
the  faltering  and  reluctant  spirit,  the  weari 
ness  in  well-doing  with  which  too  many 
believers  impoverish  and  sadden  their  own 
hearts,  make  other  men  question  the  reality 
and  value  of  religion  and  turn  away  from 
it  in  cool  neglect. 

[  "7] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

What,  then,  is  the  duty  of  the  Church? 
What  must  she  do  to  win  the  confidence 
of  the  world?  What  is  the  best  way  for  her 
to  "prove  her  doctrine  all  divine"? 

First,  she  must  increase  her  labours  in 
the  love  of  men;  second,  she  must  practice 
the  simple  life,  deepening  her  trust  in  God. 

Suppose  that  a  fresh  flood  of  energy, 
brave,  cheerful,  joyous  energy,  should  be 
poured  into  all  the  forms  of  Christian  work. 
Suppose  that  Foreign  Missions  and  Home 
Missions  should  no  longer  have  to  plead 
and  beg  for  support,  but  that  plenty  of 
money  should  come  flowing  in  to  send  out 
every  missionary  that  wants  to  go,  and  that 
plenty  of  the  strongest  and  best  young  men 
should  dedicate  their  lives  to  the  ministry 
of  Christ,  and  that  every  household  where 
His  gospel  is  believed  should  find  its  high 
est  honour  and  its  greatest  joy  in  helping 
to  extend  His  kingdom. 

And  then  suppose  that  the  Christian  life, 
in  its  daily  manifestation,  should  come  to 
be  marked  and  known  by  simplicity  and 
happiness.  Suppose  that  the  followers  of 
Jesus  should  really  escape  from  bondage  to 
[  118  ] 


JOY  AND  POWER 

the  evil  spirits  of  avarice  and  luxury  which 
infect  and  torment  so  much  of  our  compli 
cated,  tangled,  artificial,  modern  life.  Sup 
pose  that  instead  of  increasing  their  wants 
and  their  desires,  instead  of  loading  them 
selves  down  on  life's  journey  with  so  many 
bags  and  parcels  and  boxes  of  superfluous 
luggage  and  bric-a-brac  that  they  are  forced 
to  sit  down  by  the  roadside  and  gasp  for 
breath,  instead  of  wearing  themselves  out 
in  the  dusty  ways  of  ostentation  and  vain 
show  or  embittering  their  hearts  because 
they  can  not  succeed  in  getting  into  the 
weary  race  of  wealth  and  fashion, —  suppose 
instead  of  all  this,  they  should  turn  to  quiet 
ways,  lowly  pleasures,  pure  and  simple  joys, 
"plain  living  and  high  thinking."  Suppose 
they  should  truly  find  and  show  their  hap 
piness  in  the  knowledge  that  God  loves 
them  and  Christ  died  for  them  and  heaven 
is  sure,  and  so  set  their  hearts  free  to  re 
joice  in  life's  common  mercies,  the  light  of 
the  sun,  the  blue  of  the  sky,  the  splendour 
of  the  sea,  the  peace  of  the  everlasting  hills, 
the  song  of  birds,  the  sweetness  of  flowers, 
the  wholesome  savour  of  good  food,  the 
[ 


JOY  AND  POWER 

delights  of  action  and  motion,  the  refresh 
ment  of  sleep,  the  charm  of  music,  the 
blessings  of  human  love  and  friendship, — 
rejoice  in  all  these  without  fear  or  misgiv 
ing,  because  they  come  from  God  and  be 
cause  Christ  has  sanctified  them  all  by  His 
presence  and  touch. 

Suppose,  I  say,  that  such  a  revival  of 
the  joy  of  living  in  Christ  and  working 
for  Christ  should  silently  sweep  over  the 
Church  in  the  Twentieth  Century.  What 
would  happen?  Great  would  be  the  peace 
of  her  children.  Greater  still  would  be  their 
power. 

This  is  the  message  which  I  have  to 
bring  to  you,  my  brethren,  in  this  General 
Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church.  You 
may  wonder  that  it  is  not  more  distinctive, 
more  ecclesiastical,  more  specially  adapted 
to  the  peculiarities  of  our  own  denomina 
tion.  You  may  think  that  it  is  a  message 
which  could  just  as  well  be  brought  to 
any  other  Church  on  any  other  occasion. 
With  all  my  heart  I  hope  that  is  true.  The 
things  that  I  care  for  most  in  our  Church 
are  not  those  which  divide  us  from  other 


JOY  AND  POWER 

Christians,  but  those  which  unite  us  to  them. 
The  things  that  I  love  most  in  Christianity 
are  those  which  give  it  power  to  save  and 
satisfy,  to  console  and  cheer,  to  inspire  and 
bless,  human  hearts  and  lives.  The  thing 
that  I  desire  most  for  Presbyterianism  is 
that  it  should  prove  its  mission  and  extend 
its  influence  in  the  world  by  making  men 
happy  in  the  knowing  and  the  doing  of  the 
things  which  Christ  teaches. 

The  Church  that  the  Twentieth  Century 
will  hear  most  gladly  and  honour  most 
sincerely  will  have  two  marks.  It  will  be 
the  Church  that  teaches  most  clearly  and 
strongly  the  truths  that  Jesus  taught.  It 
will  be  the  Church  that  finds  most  happi 
ness  in  living  the  simple  life  and  doing 
good  in  the  world. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 

Overcome  evil  with  good.  Romans  xii.  2 1 . 

THE  Battle  of  Life  is  an  ancient  phrase 
consecrated  by  use  in  Commencement 
Orations  without  number.  Two  modern  ex 
pressions  have  taken  their  place  beside  it 
in  our  own  day, — the  Strenuous  Life  and 
the  Simple  Life. 

Each  of  these  phrases  has  its  own  sig 
nificance  and  value.  It  is  when  they  are 
overemphasized  and  driven  to  extremes 
that  they  lose  their  truth  and  become  catch 
words  of  folly.  The  simple  life  which  blandly 
ignores  all  care  and  conflict  soon  becomes 
flabby  and  invertebrate,  sentimental  and 
gelatinous.  The  strenuous  life  which  does 
everything  with  set  jaws  and  clenched  fists 
and  fierce  effort  soon  becomes  strained  and 
violent,  a  prolonged  nervous  spasm. 

Somewhere  between  these  two  extremes 
must  lie  the  golden  mean, — a  life  that  has 
strength  and  simplicity,  courage  and  calm, 
power  and  peace.  But  how  can  we  find  this 
golden  line  and  live  along  it?  Some  truth 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 

there  must  be  in  the  old  phrase  which 
speaks  of  life  as  a  battle.  No  conflict,  no 
character.  Without  strife,  a  weak  life.  But 
what  is  the  real  meaning  of  the  battle  ? 
What  is  the  vital  issue  at  stake  ?  What  are 
the  things  worth  fighting  for?  In  what  spirit, 
with  what  weapons,  are  we  to  take  our  part 
in  the  warfare? 

There  is  an  answer  to  these  questions 
in  the  text :  Overcome  evil  with  good.  The 
man  who  knows  this  text  by  heart,  knows 
the  secret  of  a  life  that  is  both  strenuous 
and  simple.  For  here  we  find  the  three  things 
that  we  need  most:  a  call  to  the  real  battle 
of  life;  a  plan  for  the  right  campaign;  and 
a  promise  of  final  victory. 

i.  Every  man,  like  the  knight  in  the  old 
legend,  is  born  on  a  field  of  battle.  But  the 
warfare  is  not  carnal,  it  is  spiritual.  Not  the 
East  against  the  West,  the  North  against 
the  South,  the  "Haves"  against  the  "Have- 
nots;"  but  the  evil  against  the  good, — 
that  is  the  real  conflict  of  life. 

The  attempt  to  deny  or  ignore  this  con 
flict  has  been  the  stock  in  trade  of  every 
false  doctrine  that  has  befogged  and  be- 
[ 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 

wildered  the  world  since  the  days  of  Eden. 
The  fairy  tale  that  the  old  serpent  told  to 
Eve  is  a  poetic  symbol  of  the  lie  funda 
mental, —  the  theory  that  sin  does  not 
mean  death,  because  it  has  no  real  existence 
and  makes  no  real  difference.  This  ancient 
falsehood  has  an  infinite  wardrobe  of  dis 
guises. 

You  will  find  it  pranked  out  in  philo 
sophic  garb  in  the  doctrines  of  those  who 
teach  that  all  things  are  linked  together  by 
necessity  of  nature  or  Divine  will,  and  that 
nothing  could  ever  have  happened  other 
wise  than  just  as  it  has  come  to  pass.  Such 
a  theory  of  the  universe  blots  out  all  differ 
ence  between  good  and  evil  except  in  name. 
It  leaves  the  fence-posts  standing,  but  it 
takes  away  the  rails,  and  throws  everything 
into  one  field  of  the  inevitable. 

You  will  find  the  same  falsehood  in  a 
more  crude  form  in  the  popular  teachings 
of  what  men  call  "the  spirit  of  the  age," 
the  secular  spirit.  According  to  these  doc 
trines  the  problem  of  civilization  is  merely 
a  problem  of  ways  and  means.  If  society 
were  better  organized,  if  wealth  were  more 
["7] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 

equally  distributed,  if  laws  were  changed, 
or  perhaps  abolished,  all  would  be  well.  If 
everybody  had  a  full  dinner-pail,  nobody 
need  care  about  an  empty  heart.  Human 
misery  the  secular  spirit  recognizes,  but  it 
absolutely  ignores  the  fact  that  nine-tenths 
of  human  misery  comes  from  human  sin. 

You  will  find  the  same  falsehood  dis 
guised  in  sentimental  costume  in  the  very 
modern  comedy  of  Christian  Science,  which 
dresses  the  denial  of  evil  in  pastoral  garb 
of  white  frock  and  pink  ribbons,  like  an 
innocent  shepherdess  among  her  lambs. 
"Evil  is  nothing,"  says  this  wonderful  Sci 
ence.  "It  does  not  really  exist.  It  is  an  illu 
sion  of  mortal  mind.  Shut  your  eyes  and 
it  will  vanish." 

Yes,  but  open  your  eyes  again  and  you 
will  see  it  in  the  same  place,  in  the  same 
form,  doing  the  same  work.  A  most  per 
sistent  nothing,  a  most  powerful  nothing! 
Not  the  shadow  cast  by  the  good,  but  the 
cloud  that  hides  the  sun  and  casts  the 
shadow.  Not  the  "silence  implying  sound," 
but  the  discord  breaking  the  harmony.  Evil 
is  as  real  as  the  fire  that  burns  you,  as  the 
[  "8  ] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 

flood  that  drowns  you.  Evil  is  as  real  as 
the  typhoid  germ  that  you  can  put  under 
a  microscope  and  see  it  squirm  and  grow. 
Evil  is  negative, — yes,  but  it  is  a  real 
negative, — as  real  as  darkness,  as  real  as 
death. 

There  are  two  things  in  every  human 
heart  which  bear  witness  to  the  existence 
and  reality  of  evil:  first,  our  judgements 
of  regret,  and  second,  our  judgements  of 
condemnation. 

How  often  we  say  to  ourselves,  "Would 
that  this  had  not  come  to  pass ! "  How  often 
we  feel  in  regard  to  our  own  actions, "  Would 
that  I  had  done  differently!"  This  is  the 
judgement  of  regret;  and  it  is  a  silent  wit 
ness  of  the  heart  to  the  conviction  that 
some  things  are  not  inevitable.  It  is  the  con 
fession  that  a  battle  has  been  lost  which 
might  have  been  won.  It  is  the  acknowledge 
ment  that  things  which  are,  but  are  not 
right,  need  not  have  been,  if  we  and  our 
fellow-men  had  seen  more  clearly  and  fol 
lowed  more  faithfully  the  guiding  star  of 
the  good. 

And  then,  out  of  the  judgement  of  regret, 
[  I29  ] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 

springs  the  deeper  judgement  of  condemna 
tion.  If  the  failure  in  duty  was  not  inevi 
table,  then  it  was  base.  The  false  word,  the 
unjust  deed,  the  foul  action,  seen  as  a  sur 
render  to  evil,  appears  hateful  and  guilty. 
It  deserves  the  indignation  and  the  shame 
which  attach  to  all  treason.  And  the  spirit 
which  lies  behind  all  these  forms  of  dis 
loyalty  to  the  good,  —  the  spirit  which 
issues  in  selfishness  and  sensuality,  cruelty 
and  lust,  intemperance  and  covetousness, — 
this  animating  spirit  of  evil  which  works 
against  the  Divine  will  and  mars  the  peace 
and  order  of  the  universe  is  the  great  Ad 
versary  against  whom  we  must  fight  for  our 
own  lives  and  the  life  of  the  world. 

All  around  us  lies  his  dark,  secret  king 
dom,  tempting,  threatening,  assaulting  the 
soul.  To  ignore  it,  is  to  walk  blindfold 
among  snares  and  pitfalls.  Try  if  you  will 
to  shut  it  out,  by  wrapping  your  heart  in 
dreams  of  beauty  and  joy,  living  in  the  fair 
regions  of  art  or  philosophy,  reading  only 
the  books  which  speak  of  evil  as  if  it  did 
not  exist  or  were  only  another  form  of  good 
ness.  Soon  you  will  be  shaken  out  of  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 

dream  into  the  reality.  You  will  come  into 
contact  with  evil  so  close,  so  loathsome,  that 
you  can  not  deny  it.  You  will  see  that  it 
has  its  soldiers,  its  servants,  its  emissaries, 
as  ardent  and  enthusiastic  in  its  cause  as  if 
they  were  serving  the  noblest  of  masters. 
It  inspires  literature  and  supports  news 
papers;  now  intelligent  and  cultured,  draw 
ing  the  arts  into  its  service;  now  coarse  and 
vulgar,  with  pictures  that  shock  the  taste 
as  much  as  they  debase  the  conscience.  It 
wins  adherents  and  turns  them  into  advo 
cates.  It  organizes  the  dealers  in  drunken 
ness  and  debauchery  into  powerful  societies 
for  mutual  protection.  It  creates  lobbies 
and  controls  legislatures.  It  corrupts  the 
government  of  great  cities  and  rots  out  the 
social  life  of  small  towns.  Even  when  its 
outward  manifestations  are  repressed  and 
its  grosser  forms  resisted,  it  steals  its  way 
into  men's  hearts,  eating  out  the  roots  of 
human  trust  and  brotherhood  and  kindness, 
and  rilling  the  air  with  gossip  and  spite, 
envy,  malice  and  all  uncharitableness. 

I  am  glad  that  since  we  have  to  live  in 
a  world  where  evil  exists,  we  have  a  religion 

[  '3'] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 

which  does  not  bandage  our  eyes.  The  first 
thing  that  we  need  to  have  religion  do  for 
us  is  to  teach  us  to  face  the  facts.  No  man 
can  come  into  touch  with  the  Divine  per 
sonality  of  Jesus  Christ,  no  man  can  listen 
to  His  teaching,  without  feeling  that  the 
distinction  between  good  and  evil  to  Him 
is  vital  and  everlasting.  The  choice  between 
them  is  to  Him  the  great  choice.  The  con 
flict  between  them  is  to  Him  the  great  con 
flict.  Evil  is  the  one  thing  that  God  has 
never  willed.  Good  is  the  one  thing  that 
He  wills  forever.  Evil  is  first  and  last  a 
rebellion  against  His  will.  He  is  altogether 
on  the  side  of  good.  Much  that  is,  is  con 
trary  to  His  will.  There  is  a  mighty  strife 
going  on,  a  battle  with  eternal  issues,  but 
not  an  eternal  battle.  The  evil  that  is  against 
Him  shall  be  cast  out  and  shall  perish.  The 
good  that  overcomes  the  evil  shall  live  for 
ever.  And  those  who  yield  their  lives  to 
God  and  receive  His  righteousness  in  Christ 
are  made  partakers  of  everlasting  life. 

This  is  the  teaching  of  Jesus;  and  I  thank 
God  for  the  honesty  and  virility  of  His 
religion  which  makes  us  face  the  facts  and 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 

calls  us  to  take  a  man's  part  in  the  real 
battle  of  life. 

ii.  But  what  is  the  plan  of  campaign  which 
Christianity  sets  before  us?  In  what  spirit 
and  with  what  weapons  are  we  to  enter  the 
great  conflict  against  the  evil  that  is  in  the 
world? 

The  natural  feeling  of  the  heart  in  the 
presence  of  evil  is  wrath,  and  the  natural 
weapon  of  wrath  is  force.  To  punish  crime, 
to  avenge  wrong,  to  put  down  wickedness 
with  a  strong  hand, — that  is  the  first  im 
pulse  of  every  one  who  has  the  instincts 
of  manhood. 

And  as  this  is  natural,  so  it  is,  also,  within 
a  certain  sphere  needful,  and  to  a  certain 
extent  useful.  Armies  and  navies  exist,  at 
least  in  theory,  to  prevent  injustice  among 
nations.  Laws  are  made  to  punish  wrong 
doers.  Courts,  police-forces,  and  prisons  are 
maintained  to  suppress  evil  with  power. 

But  while  we  recognize  this  method  of 
dealing  with  evil  as  useful  to  a  certain  ex 
tent  and  necessary  within  a  certain  sphere, 
we  must  remember  that  it  has  its  strict 
limitations. 

[  '33  ] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 
First,  it  belongs  to  the  state  and  not  to 
the  individual.  When  the  private  man  as 
sumes  to  punish  evil  with  force  he  sanctions 
lynch-law,  which  is  a  terror  to  the  innocent 
as  well  as  to  the  guilty.  Then  we  have  the 
blood-feud  and  the  vendetta,  mob-rule  and 
anarchy. 

Second,  the  suppression  of  evil  by  force 
is  only  a  temporary  relief,  a  protection  for 
the  moment.  It  does  not  touch  the  root  of 
the  matter.  You  send  the  murderer  out  of 
the  world  by  a  regulated  flash  of  lightning. 
But  you  do  not  send  murder  out  of  the 
world.  To  do  that  you  must  reach  and 
change  the  heart  of  Cain.  You  put  the  thief 
in  prison,  but  when  he  comes  out  he  will 
be  ready  to  steal  again,  unless  you  can  purify 
his  conscience  and  control  his  will.  You 
assault  and  overthrow  some  system  of  mis- 
government,  and  "turn  the  rascals  out." 
But  unless  you  have  something  better  to 
substitute,  all  you  have  done  is  to  make 
room  for  a  new  set  of  rascals, — a  new  swarm 
of  mosquitoes  with  fresh  appetites  and  larger 
capacities. 

Third,  the  method  of  fighting  evil  with 
[  '34] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 

force  on  its  own  ground  often  has  a  bad 
effect  on  those  who  follow  it.  Wrestle  with 
a  chimney-sweep  and  you  will  need  a  bath. 
Throw  back  the  mud  that  is  thrown  at 
you,  and  you  will  have  dirty  hands.  Answer 
Shimei  when  he  curses  you  and  you  will 
echo  his  profanity.  Many  a  man  has  entered 
a  crusade  against  intemperance  and  proved 
himself  as  intemperate  in  his  language  as 
other  men  are  in  their  potations.  Many  a 
man  has  attacked  a  bad  cause  with  righteous 
indignation  and  ended  in  a  personal  squab 
ble  with  most  unrighteous  anger. 

No,  my  brother-men,  the  best  way  to 
fight  against  evil  is  not  to  meet  it  on  its 
own  ground  with  its  own  weapons.  There 
is  a  nobler  method  of  warfare,  a  divine  plan 
of  campaign  given  to  us  in  the  religion  of 
Christ.  Overcome  evil  with  good.  This  is  the 
secret  of  the  battle  of  life. 

Evil  is  potent  not  so  much  because  it 
has  command  of  money  and  the  "big  bat 
talions,"  but  because  it  has  control  of  the 
hearts  of  men.  It  spreads  because  human 
hearts  are  lying  fallow  and  ready  to  welcome 
the  seeds  of  all  kinds  of  weeds.  It  persists 
[  135  ] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 

because  too  much  of  what  we  call  virtue  is 
negative,  and  selfish,  and  frost-bound, — 
cold-storage  virtue, — the  poor  piety  which 
terminates  in  a  trembling  anxiety  to  save 
our  own  souls. 

The  way  to  counteract  and  conquer  evil 
in  the  world  is  to  give  our  own  hearts  to 
the  dominion  of  good,  and  work  the  works 
of  God  while  it  is  day.  The  strongest  of 
all  obstacles  to  the  advance  of  evil  is  a  clean 
and  generous  man,  doing  his  duty  from 
day  to  day,  and  winning  others,  by  his 
cheerful  fidelity,  to  serve  the  same  Master. 
Diseases  are  not  the  only  things  that  are 
contagious.  Courage  is  contagious.  Kind 
ness  is  contagious.  Manly  integrity  is  con 
tagious.  All  the  positive  virtues,  with  red 
blood  in  their  veins,  are  contagious.  The 
heaviest  blow  that  you  can  strike  at  the 
kingdom  of  evil  is  just  to  follow  the  advice 
which  the  dying  Sir  Walter  Scott  gave  to 
his  son-in-law,  Lockhart:  "Be  a  good  man." 
And  if  you  want  to  know  how,  there  is  but 
one  perfect  and  supreme  example,  —  the  life 
of  Him  who  not  only  did  no  evil,  but  went 
about  doing  good. 

[  '36] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 
Now  take  that  thought  of  fighting  evil 
with  good  and  apply  it  to  our  world  and 
to  ourselves. 

Here  are  monstrous  evils  and  vices  in 
society.  Let  intemperance  be  the  type  of 
them  all,  because  so  many  of  the  others 
are  its  children.  Drunkenness  ruins  more 
homes  and  wrecks  more  lives  than  war. 
How  shall  we  oppose  it?  I  do  not  say  that 
we  shall  not  pass  resolutions  and  make  laws 
against  it.  But  I  do  say  that  we  can  never 
really  conquer  the  evil  in  this  way.  I  hold 
with  Phillips  Brooks  that  "all  prohibitory 
measures  are  negative.  That  they  have  their 
uses  no  one  can  doubt.  That  they  have 
their  limits  is  just  as  clear." 

The  stronghold  of  intemperance  lies  in 
the  vacancy  and  despair  of  men's  minds. 
The  way  to  attack  it  is  to  make  the  sober 
life  beautiful  and  happy  and  full  of  interest. 
Teach  your  boys  how  to  work,  how  to  read, 
how  to  play,  you  fathers,  before  you  send 
them  to  college,  if  you  want  to  guard  them 
against  the  temptations  of  strong  drink  and 
the  many  shames  and  sorrows  that  go  with 
it.  Make  the  life  of  your  community  cheer- 
[  '37  ] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 

fill  and  pleasant  and  interesting,  you  re 
formers,  provide  men  with  recreation  which 
will  not  harm  them,  if  you  want  to  take 
away  the  power  of  the  gilded  saloon  and 
the  grimy  boozing-ken.  Parks  and  play 
grounds,  libraries  and  music-rooms,  clean 
homes  and  cheerful  churches, — these  are 
the  efficient  foes  of  intemperance.  And  the 
same  thing  is  true  of  gambling  and  lubri 
city  and  all  the  other  vices  which  drag  men 
down  by  the  lower  side  of  their  nature  be 
cause  the  higher  side  has  nothing  to  cling 
to,  nothing  to  sustain  it  and  hold  it  up. 

What  are  you  going  to  do,  my  brother- 
men,  for  this  higher  side  of  human  life? 
What  contribution  are  you  going  to  make 
of  your  strength,  your  time,  your  influence, 
your  money,  your  self,  to  make  a  cleaner, 
fuller,  happier,  larger,  nobler  life  possible 
for  some  of  your  fellow-men?  I  do  not  ask 
how  you  are  going  to  do  it.  You  may  do 
it  in  business,  in  the  law,  in  medicine,  in 
the  ministry,  in  teaching,  in  literature.  But 
this  is  the  question:  What  are  you  going  to 
give  personally  to  make  the  human  life  of 
the  place  where  you  do  your  work,  purer, 
[  138  ] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 
stronger,  brighter,  better,  and  more  worth 
living?  That  will  be  your  best  part  in  the 
warfare  against  vice  and  crime. 

The  positive  method  is  the  only  efficient 
way  to  combat  intellectual  error  and  spirit 
ual  evil.  False  doctrines  are  never  argued 
out  of  the  world.  They  are  pushed  back  by 
the  incoming  of  the  truth  as  the  darkness 
is  pushed  back  by  the  dawn.  Phillips  Brooks 
was  right.  It  is  not  worth  while  to  cross  the 
street  to  break  a  man's  idol.  It  is  worth 
while  to  cross  the  ocean  to  tell  him  about 
God.  The  skilful  fencer  who  attacks  your 
doubts  and  drives  you  from  corner  to  cor 
ner  of  unbelief  and  leaves  you  at  last  in 
doubt  whether  you  doubt  or  not,  does  you 
a  certain  service.  He  gives  you  exercise, 
takes  the  conceit  out  of  you.  But  the  man 
who  lays  hold  of  the  real  faith  that  is  hid 
den  underneath  your  doubt, — the  silent 
longing  for  God  and  goodness,  the  secret 
attraction  that  draws  your  heart  toward 
Jesus  Christ  as  the  only  one  who  has  the 
words  of  everlasting  life, — the  man  who 
takes  hold  of  this  buried  faith  and  quickens 
it  and  makes  you  dare  to  try  to  live  by  it, 
[  '39  ] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 
— ah,  that  is  the  man  who  helps  you  indeed. 
My  brothers,  if  any  of  you  are  going  to 
be  preachers  remember  this :  What  we  men 
need  is  not  so  much  an  answer  to  our  doubts, 
as  more  nourishment  for  our  faith. 

The  positive  method  is  the  only  way  of 
victory  in  our  struggle  with  the  evil  that 
dwells  in  our  own  nature  and  besets  our 
own  hearts.  The  reason  why  many  men  fail 
is  because  they  thrust  the  vice  out  and  then 
forget  to  lay  hold  on  the  virtue.  They  evict 
the  unclean  spirit  and  leave  a  vacant  house. 
To  cease  to  do  evil  is  important,  but  to 
learn  to  do  good  is  far  more  important. 
Reformation  never  saved  a  man.  Transfor 
mation  is  the  only  way.  And  to  be  trans 
formed,  a  man  must  welcome  the  Spirit  of 
Good,  the  Holy  Spirit,  into  his  heart,  and 
work  with  Him  every  day,  doing  the  will 
of  God. 

There  are  two  ways  of  righting  fever. 
One  is  to  dose  the  sick  people  with  quinine 
and  keep  the  fever  down.  The  other  is  to 
drain  the  marshes,  and  purify  the  water, 
and  cleanse  the  houses,  and  drive  the  fever 
out.  Try  negative,  repressive  religion,  and 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 
you  may  live,  but  you  will  be  an  invalid. 
Try  positive,  vital  religion,  and  you  will  be 
well. 

There  is  an  absorption  of  good  that 
guards  the  soul  against  the  infection  of  evil. 
There  is  a  life  of  fellowship  with  Christ  that 
can  pass  through  the  furnace  of  the  world 
without  the  smell  of  fire  on  its  garments, — 
a  life  that  is  full  of  interest  as  His  was,  be 
ing  ever  about  His  Father's  business;  a  life 
that  is  free  and  generous  and  blessed,  as 
His  was,  being  spent  in  doing  good,  and 
refreshed  by  the  sense  of  God's  presence 
and  approval. 

Last  summer  I  saw  two  streams  empty 
ing  into  the  sea.  One  was  a  sluggish,  nig 
gardly  rivulet,  in  a  wide,  fat,  muddy  bed; 
and  every  day  the  tide  came  in  and  drowned 
out  that  poor  little  stream,  and  filled  it  with 
bitter  brine.  The  other  was  a  vigorous,  joy 
ful,  brimming  mountain-river,  fed  from  un 
failing  springs  among  the  hills ;  and  all  the 
time  it  swept  the  salt  water  back  before  it 
and  kept  itself  pure  and  sweet;  and  when 
the  tide  came  in,  it  only  made  the  fresh 
water  rise  higher  and  gather  new  strength 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE 
by  the  delay;  and  ever  the  living  stream 
poured  forth  into  the  ocean  its  tribute  of 
living  water, — the  symbol  of  that  influence 
which  keeps  the  ocean  of  life  from  turning 
into  a  Dead  Sea  of  wickedness. 

My  brother-men,  will  you  take  that  liv 
ing  stream  as  a  type  of  your  life  in  the 
world?  The  question  for  you  is  not  what 
you  are  going  to  get  out  of  the  world,  but 
what  you  are  going  to  give  to  the  world. 
The  only  way  to  meet  and  overcome  the 
inflowing  tide  of  evil  is  to  roll  against  it 
the  outflowing  river  of  good. 

My  prayer  for  you  is  that  you  may  re 
ceive  from  Christ  not  only  the  watchword 
of  this  nobler  life,  but  also  the  power  to 
fulfil  it. 


C'42] 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

Stand  ye  In  the  ways,  and  see;  and  ask  for  the  old 
paths,  where  is  the  good  way;  and  walk  therein,  and 
ye  shall  find  rest  for  your  souls.  'Jeremiah  vi.  1 6. 

THIS  advice  was  given  to  people  who 
were  in  peril  and  perplexity.  The 
kingdom  of  Judah  was  threatened  with  de 
struction,  which  could  be  averted  only  by 
wise  and  prompt  action.  But  the  trouble 
was  to  decide  in  which  direction  that  action 
should  be  taken.  The  nation  was  divided 
into  loud  parties,  and  these  parties  into 
noisy  wings.  Every  man  had  a  theory  of  his 
own,  or  a  variation  of  some  other  man's 
theory. 

Some  favoured  an  alliance  with  the  East; 
some  preferred  the  friendship  of  the  West; 
others,  a  course  of  diplomatic  dalliance;  a 
few  stood  out  for  honest  independence. 
Some  said  that  what  the  country  needed 
was  an  increase  of  wealth;  some  held  that 
a  splendid  and  luxurious  court,  like  that  of 
Pharaoh  or  Nebuchadnezzar,  would  bring 
prosperity ;  others  maintained  that  the  trou- 

[  145  ] 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

bles  of  the  land  could  be  healed  only  by  a 
return  to  "simpler  manners,  purer  laws." 
Among  the  nobility  and  their  followers  all 
kinds  of  novelties  in  the  worship  of  idols 
were  in  fashion  and  new  gods  were  imported 
every  season.  The  philosophers  cultivated 
a  discreet  indifference  to  all  religious  ques 
tions.  The  prophets  taught  that  the  only 
salvation  for  the  nation  lay  in  the  putting 
away  of  idolatry  and  the  revival  of  faith  in 
the  living  and  true  God. 

Judah  was  like  a  man  standing  at  the 
cross-roads,  on  a  stormy  night,  with  all  the 
guide-posts  blown  down.  Meantime  the 
Babylonian  foe  was  closing  in  around  Je- 
.rusalem,  and  it  was  necessary  to  do  some 
thing,  or  die. 

The  liberty  of  choice  was  an  embarrass 
ment.  The  minds  of  men  alternated  be 
tween  that  rash  haste  which  is  ready  to  fol 
low  any  leader  who  makes  noise  enough, 
and  that  skeptical  spirit  which  doubts 
whether  any  line  of  action  can  be  right  be 
cause  so  many  lines  are  open.  Into  this  at 
mosphere  of  fever  and  fog  came  the  word  of 
the  prophet.  Let  us  consider  what  it  means. 
[  '46] 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

Stand  ye  in  the  ways  and  see — that  means 
deliberation.  When  you  are  at  a  junction  it 
is  no  time  to  shut  your  eyes  and  run  at  full 
speed.  Where  there  are  so  many  ways  some 
of  them  are  likely  to  be  wrong.  A  turning- 
point  is  the  place  for  prudence  and  fore 
thought. 

Ask  for  the  old  paths,  what  is  the  good  way 
— that  means  guidance.  No  man  is  forced  to 
face  the  problems  of  life  alone.  Other  men 
have  tried  the  different  ways.  Peace,  pros 
perity,  victory  have  been  won  by  the  nation 
in  former  times.  Inquire  of  the  past  how 
these  blessings  were  secured.  Look  for  the 
path  which  has  already  led  to  safety  and  hap 
piness.  Let  history  teach  you  which  among 
all  these  crossing  ways  is  the  best  to  follow. 

And  walk  therein — that  means  action. 
When  you  have  deliberated,  when  you  have 
seen  the  guiding  light  upon  the  way  of  secu 
rity  and  peace,  then  go  ahead.  Prudence  is 
worthless  unless  you  put  it  into  practice. 
When  in  doubt  do  nothing;  but  as  long  as 
you  do  nothing  you  will  be  in  doubt.  Never 
man  or  nation  was  saved  by  inaction.  The 
only  way  out  of  danger  is  the  way  into  work. 
[  147  1 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

Gird  up  your  loins,  trembling  Judah,  and 
push  along  your  chosen  path,  steadily, 
bravely,  strenuously,  until  you  come  to  your 
promised  rest. 

Now  I  am  sure  this  was  good  counsel 
that  the  prophet  gave  to  his  people  in  the 
days  of  perplexity.  It  would  have  been  well 
for  them  if  they  had  followed  it.  I  am  sure 
it  is  also  good  counsel  for  us,  a  word  of 
God  to  steady  us  and  stimulate  us  amid 
life's  confusions.  Let  me  make  it  a  personal 
message  to  you. 

Stand  in  the  ways;  Ask  for  the  good  way; 
Walk  therein^  —  Deliberation,  Guidance, 
Action. Will  you  take  these  words  with  you, 
and  try  to  make  them  a  vital  influence  in 
your  life? 

i.  First,  I  ask  you  to  stand  in  the  ways,  and 
see.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  you  have 
not  already  been  doing  this  to  a  certain  ex 
tent.  The  great  world  is  crossed  by  human 
footsteps  which  make  paths  leading  in  all 
directions.  Men  travel  through  on  different 
ways;  and  I  suppose  some  of  you  have  no 
ticed  the  fact,  and  thought  a  little  about  it. 

There  is  the  way  of  sensuality.  Those 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

who  walk  in  it  take  appetite  as  their  guide. 
Their  main  object  in  life  is  to  gratify  their 
physical  desires.  Some  of  them  are  delicate, 
and  some  of  them  are  coarse.  That  is  a 
matter  of  temperament.  But  all  of  them 
are  hungry.  That  is  a  matter  of  principle. 
Whether  they  grub  in  the  mire  for  their 
food  like  swine,  or  browse  daintily  upon  the 
tree-tops  like  the  giraffe,  the  question  of 
life  for  those  who  follow  this  way  is  the 
same.  "How  much  can  we  hold?  How  can 
we  obtain  the  most  pleasure  for  these  five 
senses  of  ours  before  they  wear  out?"  And 
the  watchword  of  their  journey  is,  "Let  us 
eat  and  drink  and  be  merry,  for  we  do  not 
expect:  to  die  to-morrow." 

There  is  the  way  of  avarice.  Those  who 
follow  it  make  haste  to  be  rich.  The  al 
mighty  dollar  rolls  before  them  along  the 
road,  and  they  chase  it.  Some  of  them  plod 
patiently  along  the  highway  of  toil.  Others 
are  always  leaping  fences  and  trying  to  find 
short  cuts  to  wealth.  But  they  are  alike  in 
this:  whatever  they  do  by  way  of  avocation, 
the  real  vocation  of  their  life  is  to  make 
money.  If  they  fail,  they  are  hard  and  bit- 
[  '49  ] 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

ter;  if  they  succeed  they  are  hard  and  proud. 
But  they  all  bow  down  to  the  golden  calf, 
and  their  motto  is,  "Lay  up  for  yourselves 
treasures  upon  earth." 

There  is  the  way  of  social  ambition. 
Those  who  walk  in  it  have  their  eyes  fixed 
on  various  prizes,  such  as  titles  of  honour, 
public  office,  large  acquaintance  with  pros 
perous  people,  the  reputation  of  leading  the 
fashion.  But  the  real  satisfaction  that  they  get 
out  of  it  all  is  simply  the  feeling  of  noto 
riety,  the  sense  of  belonging  to  a  circle  to 
which  ordinary  people  are  not  admitted  and 
to  whose  doings  the  world,  just  for  this  rea 
son,  pays  envious  attention.  This  way  is  less 
like  a  road  than  like  a  ladder.  Most  of  the 
people  who  are  on  it  are  "climbers." 

There  are  other  ways,  less  clearly  marked, 
more  difficult  to  trace, — the  way  of  moral 
indifference,  the  way  of  intellectual  pride, 
the  way  of  hypocrisy,  the  way  of  indecision. 
This  last  is  not  a  single  road:  it  is  a  net 
work  of  sheep-tracks,  crossing  and  recross- 
ing  the  great  highways,  leading  in  every 
direction,  and  ending  nowhere.  The  men 
who  wander  in  these  aimless  paths  go  up 
[ 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

and  down  through  the  world, changing  their 
purposes,  following  one  another  blindly, 
forever  travelling,  but  never  arriving  at  the 
goal  of  their  journey. 

Through  all  this  tangle  there  runs  an 
other  way, — the  path  of  faith  and  duty. 
Those  who  walk  in  it  believe  that  life  has 
a  meaning, — the  fulfilment  of  God's  will; 
and  a  goal, — the  attainment  of  perfect  har 
mony  with  Him.  They  try  to  make  the  best 
of  themselves  in  soul  and  body  by  training 
and  discipline.  They  endeavour  to  put  their 
talents  to  the  noblest  use  in  the  service  of 
their  fellow-men,  and  to  unfold  their  facul 
ties  to  the  highest  joy  and  power  in  the  life 
of  the  Spirit.  They  seek  an  education  to 
fit  them  for  work,  and  they  do  their  work 
well  because  it  is  a  part  of  their  education. 
They  respect  their  consciences,  and  cherish 
their  ideals.  They  put  forth  an  honest  effort 
to  be  good  and  to  do  good  and  to  make  the 
world  better.  They  often  stumble.  They 
sometimes  fall.  But,  take  their  life  from  end 
to  end,  it  is  a  faithful  attempt  to  walk  in 
"the  way  of  righteousness,  which  is  the  way 
of  peace." 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

Such  are  some  of  the  ways  that  lead 
through  the  world.  And  they  are  all  open 
to  us.  We  can  travel  by  the  road  that 
pleases  us.  Heredity  gives  us  our  outfit.  En 
vironment  supplies  our  company.  But  when 
we  come  to  the  cross-roads,  the  question  is, 
"Boy,  which  way  will  you  ride?" 

Deliberation  is  necessary,  unless  we  wish 
to  play  a  fool's  part.  No  amount  of  energy 
will  take  the  place  of  thought.  A  strenuous 
life,  with  its  eyes  shut,  is  a  kind  of  wild 
insanity.  A  drifting  life,  with  its  eyes  open, 
is  a  kind  of  mild  idiocy. 

The  real  question  is, "How  will  you  live? 
After  what  rule  and  pattern?  Along  what 
way?  Toward  what  end?" 

Will  you  let  chance  answer  that  question 
for  you?  Will  you  let  yourself  be  led  blind 
fold  by  the  first  guide  that  offers,  or  run 
stupidly  after  the  crowd  without  asking 
whither  they  are  going?  You  would  not  adt 
so  in  regard  to  the  shortest  earthly  journey. 
You  would  not  rush  into  the  railway  station 
and  jump  aboard  of  the  first  train  you  saw, 
without  looking  at  the  signboards.  Surely 
if  there  is  anything  in  regard  to  which  we 
[  '52] 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

need  to  exercise  deliberation,  it  is  the  choice 
of  the  way  that  we  are  to  take  through  the 
world.  You  have  thought  a  good  deal  about 
what  business,  what  profession  you  are  to 
follow.  Think  more  deeply,  I  beg  you, 
about  how  you  are  to  follow  it  and  what 
you  are  to  follow  it  for.  Stand  in  the  ways, 
and  see. 

ii.  Second,  I  earnestly  advise  you  to  ask 
for  the  old  paths ,  where  is  the  good  way. 

I  do  not  regard  this  as  a  mere  counsel 
of  conservatism,  an  unqualified  commen 
dation  of  antiquity.  True,  it  implies  that 
the  good  way  will  not  be  a  new  discovery, 
a  track  that  you  and  I  strike  out  for  our 
selves.  Among  the  paths  of  conduct,  that 
which  is  entirely  original  is  likely  to  be  false, 
and  that  which  is  true  is  likely  to  have  some 
footprints  on  it.  When  a  man  comes  to  us 
with  a  scheme  of  life  which  he  has  made  all 
by  himself,  we  may  safely  say  to  him,  as 
the  old  composer  said  to  the  young  musi 
cian  who  brought  him  a  symphony  of  the 
future,  "It  is  both  new  and  beautiful;  but 
that  which  is  new  is  not  beautiful,  and  that 
which  is  beautiful  is  not  new." 
[  '53  ] 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

But  this  is  by  no  means  the  same  as 
saying  that  everything  ancient  is  therefore 
beautiful  and  true,  or  that  all  the  old  ways 
are  good.  The  very  point  of  the  text  is  that 
we  must  discriminate  among  antiquities, — 
a  thing  as  necessary  in  old  chairs  and  old 
books  as  in  old  ways. 

Evil  is  almost,  if  not  quite,  as  ancient 
as  good.  Folly  and  wisdom,  among  men  at 
least,  are  twins,  and  we  can  not  distinguish 
between  them  by  the  gray  hairs.  Adam's 
way  was  old  enough;  and  so  was  the  way 
of  Cain,  and  of  Noah's  vile  son,  and  of 
Lot's  lewd  daughters,  and  of  Balaam,  and 
of  Jezebel,  and  of  Manasseh.  Judas  Iscariot 
was  as  old  as  St.  John.  Ananias  and  Sapphira 
were  of  the  same  age  with  St.  Peter  and 
St.  Paul. 

What  we  are  to  ask  for  is  not  simply  the 
old  way,  but  that  one  among  the  old  ways 
which  has  been  tested  and  tried  and  proved 
to  be  the  good  way.  The  Spirit  of  Wisdom 
tells  us  that  we  are  not  to  work  this  way 
out  by  logarithms,  or  evolve  it  from  our 
own  inner  consciousness,  but  to  learn  what 
it  is  by  looking  at  the  lives  of  other  men 
['54] 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

and  marking  the  lessons  which  they  teach 
us.  Experience  has  been  compared  to  the 
stern-light  of  a  ship  which  shines  only  on 
the  road  that  has  been  traversed.  But  the 
stern-light  of  a  ship  that  sails  before  you  is 
a  head-light  to  you. 

You  do  not  need  to  try  everything  for 
yourself  in  order  to  understand  what  it 
means.  The  writer  of  Ecclesiastes  tells  us 
that  he  gave  his  heart  to  know  madness  and 
folly;  and  that  it  was  all  vanity  and  vexation 
of  spirit.  It  will  be  a  wise  economy  for  us 
to  accept  his  lesson  without  paying  his  tui 
tion-fee  over  again. 

It  is  perfectly  safe  for  a  man  to  take  it 
as  a  fact  that  fire  burns,  without  putting  his 
hand  into  the  flame.  He  does  not  need  to 
try  perilous  experiments  with  his  own  soul 
in  order  to  make  sure  that  lust  defiles,  that 
avarice  hardens,  that  frivolity  empties,  that 
selfishness  cankers  the  heart.  He  may  un 
derstand  the  end  of  the  way  of  sensuality 
by  looking  at  any  old  pleasure-seeker, 

Gray,  and  gap-toothed,  and  lean  as  death, 

mumbling  the  dainties  that  he  can  no  longer 
[  '55  ] 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 
enjoy,  and  glowering  with  bleared  eyes  at 
the  indulgences  which  now  mock  him  even 
while  they  tempt  him.  The  goal  of  the  path 
of  covetousness  may  be  discerned  in  the 
face  of  any  old  money-worshipper,  keeping 
guard  over  his  piles  of  wealth  like  a  surly 
watch-dog;  or,  if  perchance  he  has  failed, 
haunting  the  places  where  fortune  has  de 
ceived  him,  like  an  unquiet  ghost. 

Inquire  and  learn;  consider  and  discern. 
There  need  be  no  doubt  about  the  direction 
of  life's  various  ways. 

Which  are  the  nations  that  have  been 
most  peaceful  and  noble  and  truly  prosper 
ous?  Those  that  have  followed  pride  and 
luxury  and  idolatry?  or  those  that  have 
cherished  sobriety  and  justice,  and  acknow 
ledged  the  Divine  law  of  righteousness? 

Which  are  the  families  that  have  been 
most  serene  and  pure  and  truly  fortunate? 
Those  in  which  there  has  been  no  discipline, 
no  restraint,  no  common  faith,  no  mutual 
love?  or  those  in  which  sincere  religion  has 
swayed  life  to  its  stern  and  gracious  laws, 
those  in  which  parents  and  children  have 
walked  together  to  the  House  of  God,  and 
[  '56] 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

knelt  together  at  His  altar,  and  rejoiced 
together  in  His  service? 

I  tell  you,  my  brother-men,  it  has  be 
come  too  much  the  fashion  in  these  latter 
days  to  sneer  and  jeer  at  the  old-fashioned 
ways  of  the  old-fashioned  American  house 
hold.  Something  too  much  of  iron  there 
may  have  been  in  the  Puritan's  temper; 
something  too  little  of  sunlight  may  have 
come  in  through  the  narrow  windows  of 
his  house.  But  that  house  had  foundations, 
and  the  virile  virtues  lived  in  it.  There 
were  plenty  of  red  corpuscles  in  his  blood, 
and  his  heart  beat  in  time  with  the  eternal 
laws  of  right,  even  though  its  pulsations 
sometimes  seemed  a  little  slow  and  heavy. 
It  would  be  well  for  us  if  we  could  get 
back  into  the  old  way,  which  proved  it 
self  to  be  the  good  way,  and  maintain,  as 
our  fathers  did,  the  sanctity  of  the  family, 
the  sacredness  of  the  marriage-vow,  the 
solemnity  of  the  mutual  duties  binding 
parents  and  children  together.  From  the 
households  that  followed  this  way  have 
come  men  that  could  rule  themselves  as 
well  as  their  fellows,  women  that  could  be 
[  '57  ] 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

trusted  as  well  as  loved.  Read  the  history 
of  such  families,  and  you  will  understand 
the  truth  of  the  poet's  words, — 

Self-reverence,  self-knowledge,  self-con 
trol, — 

These  three  alone  lead  life  to  sovereign 
power. 

Look  around  you  in  the  world  and  see 
what  way  it  is  that  has  brought  your  fel 
low-men  to  peace  and  quietness  of  heart, 
to  security  and  honour  of  life.  Is  it  the  way 
of  unbridled  self-indulgence,  of  unscrupu 
lous  greed,  of  aimless  indolence?  or  is  it 
the  way  of  self-denial,  of  cheerful  industry, 
of  fair  dealing,  of  faithful  service?  If  true 
honour  lies  in  the  respect  and  grateful  love 
of  one's  fellow-men,  if  true  success  lies  in 
a  contented  heart  and  a  peaceful  conscience, 
then  the  men  who  have  reached  the  highest 
goal  of  life  are  those  who  have  followed 
most  closely  the  way  to  which  Jesus  Christ 
points  us  and  in  which  He  goes  before  us. 

in.  Walk  therein ,  and  ye  shall  find  rest  for 
your  souls.  Right  action  brings  rest. 

Rest!  Rest!  How  that  word  rings  like 
a  sweet  bell  through  the  turmoil  of  our 

[  158] 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

age.  We  are  rushing  to  and  fro,  destroying 
rest  in  our  search  for  it.  We  drive  our  auto 
mobiles  from  one  place  to  another,  at  furi 
ous  speed,  not  knowing  what  we  shall  do 
when  we  get  there.  We  make  haste  to  ac 
quire  new  possessions,  not  knowing  how 
we  shall  use  them  when  they  are  ours.  We 
are  in  a  fever  of  new  discoveries  and  theo 
ries,  not  knowing  how  to  apply  them  when 
they  are  made.  We  feed  ourselves  upon 
novel  speculations  until  our  heads  swim 
with  the  vertigo  of  universal  knowledge 
which  changes  into  the  paresis  of  universal 
doubt. 

But  in  the  hours  of  silence,  the  Spirit  of 
Wisdom  whispers  a  secret  to  our  hearts. 
Rest  depends  upon  conduct.  The  result  of  your 
life  depends  upon  your  choosing  the  good  way, 
and  walking  in  it. 

And  to  you  I  say,  my  brother-men, 
choose  Christ,  for  He  is  the  Way.  All  the 
strength  and  sweetness  of  the  best  possible 
human  life  are  embodied  in  Him.  All  the 
truth  that  is  needed  to  inspire  and  guide 
man  to  noble  action  and  fine  character  is 
revealed  in  Him.  He  is  the  one  Master  al- 
[  159  ] 


THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY 

together  worthy  to  be  served  and  followed. 
Take  His  yoke  upon  you  and  learn  of  Him, 
and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


APR  2  3  1962 


Form  L-9 
20m-l,  '41(1122) 


PS 

3117 
C83 


I  f±  Mi  f  fll 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    001  228216  6 


SUPPLIED     BY 

THE  SEVEN  BOOKHUNTERS 

STATION  0.  BOX  22— NEW  YORK  CITY 
Out-of-Print  Books 


